


where would i be in life? (had we not met yet)

by cuecard, youplusmeisbadnews



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Becky takes lots of photos, Charlotte's a nerd, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Slow Burn, University AU, lots of feelings, they play soccer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuecard/pseuds/cuecard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youplusmeisbadnews/pseuds/youplusmeisbadnews
Summary: “Game on!” Charlotte shouts, loud enough that she knows it will be heard.Becky does hear her, turning around to wink at Charlotte and give her a stupid arrogant smile in place of saying anything in return.“Bitch.”
Relationships: Charlotte/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox
Comments: 54
Kudos: 70





	1. every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

**Author's Note:**

> We're bacckkkkk.
> 
> Just a small note: all school names are for creative purposes only, they don't reflect any real school.
> 
> We hope you enjoy the first chapter!
> 
> (Thank you in advance for any kudos or comments you may wish to leave us - they are very much appreciated)

* * *

_It all starts on a Saturday afternoon when they’re in high school._

_Heat licks at her face and coils around her limbs like some sort of eager snake. Even the birds above them are quiet and the grass stands still as if it is too hot to move. She bounces on her feet and rubs her hands together. She can feel the white material of her shirt already beginning to cling to her back._

_Becky spots her parents at the opposite side of the field and her heart still swells despite the fact they’ve never missed a game of hers. Ever. Her dad sends her a wave and then points to the camera sitting on his chest, the bright orange camera strap an easy contrast against his light t-shirt. Her mother is more reserved in her happiness but she still sends Becky a proud beaming smile and thumbs up._

_Becky’s never had a proper team strip before. It has always been generic school strips with awful colours and horrible striped patterns but not this one, not any more._

_This shirt is white and sleek with a constructed collar with a black and orange trim. The Falcons’ logo on her chest is also black with orange trim – it looks fierce. She likes it already._

_Her recruitment to Lakeside on a scholarship before summer has been met with little fuss. She has slotted into her classes just fine at the start of the new semester and she has adapted to the soccer team even easier, even if the practice is a lot more rigorous than she has been used to before._

_That is why she is here though, to get better. Maybe even make it to the big time. Lakeside school prides itself on sports and Becky plans on being a good addition to the place._

_It is the opening game of the season and as far as she knows the rivalry with the Riverdale Eagles has been a long-term thing. It doesn’t have a name as such but she has been assured by her teammates that it burns as bright as any rivalry anywhere in the Division._

_She also knows that recent history on the pitch has been far kinder to the Eagles than it has been to the Falcons. It sounds like the last few years have been a disaster on the pitch. The Falcons have lost the last eight meetings between the two teams and that’s something that has to change today, Becky decides._

_The Eagles still haven’t emerged onto the field yet and Becky hates the heat that’s still pressing down on them with an unrelenting intensity. Becky bounces on her feet a little and stretches her arms out in front of her, clasping her hands together to push them outwards so that she can feel the burn in her shoulders._

_“This is what they do every time,” Naomi eventually says from a few feet behind her. “They make us wait and wait and wait.”_

_Becky makes a dismissive noise. “That’s annoying.”_

_“Little bit. Blame Charlotte Flair for it, she’s into all that psychological bullshit.”_

_“Their captain?” Becky asks._

_Naomi nods. “That’s the one. You ever met her?”_

_Becky shakes her head. “Not as if we’d run around in the same circles from what I know about her.”_

_“No shit,” is Naomi’s blunt response. “She’s something.”_

_In all honesty, Becky’s only heard a few things about Charlotte Flair through the grapevine. She knows that she is the captain and goalkeeper for the Eagles. Becky also knows that Charlotte’s got the reputation of being a bit of a star athlete._

_Becky’s about to say something else when the Eagles finally take to the field. Their strips are scarlet red, like wet blood, and Becky dislikes the colour of it already. She spots Charlotte immediately. Charlotte emerges onto the field last and she doesn’t even give the Falcons a second of her attention. Instead, she gathers her team into a huddle on their side of the pitch._

_Becky narrows her eyes and watches as Charlotte saunters over to the goalposts, kicking both of her boots against the right one before reaching up and almost touching the crossbar with her gloves. Becky recognises it for what it is: routine._

_Then she sees Charlotte look up to begin scanning the field with her eyes and Becky knows who she is looking for. Charlotte is looking for her – the new kid._

_Charlotte finds her easily but Becky’s gaze stays on Charlotte just the same. Something about the natural, self-assured way she looks at Becky tells her that Charlotte’s confidence isn’t just bravado.  
_

_No, Charlotte’s confidence isn’t just shallow actions. It’s exactly that; confidence in herself and what she knows her team can do on the pitch._

_Becky’s attention only breaks when she hears the whistle go off to her right. She feels her stomach lift in the immediate adrenaline rush that it brings. The Falcons have the ball from kickoff and Becky takes up her forward position near the touchline, almost hugging it._

_She gives another glance over her shoulder to Charlotte who seems to be still watching her for some reason._

_Becky smiles._

_She is about to ruin Charlotte’s day._

*****

The sun streaks through the windows of the car, yet Becky’s mind is clouded with grey. For the last few months, her mood has ricocheted between low and even lower. As she glances across at her ma, Becky can tell that she’s putting on a brave face because this is a big day. 

It is a big deal.

Becky is essentially starting her first day in the big bad world as an adult – on her own - at university.

And yet, she doesn’t feel overly thrilled about it all. She has no energy or motivation for the mountain of work that is about to come her way. The small mercy Becky has is the fact that Sasha is going there too. Different majors but still, Sasha will be around and that helps settle her a little.

Becky looks out the car window and the radio plays in the background. The music doesn’t demand her attention but it plays quietly, filling up the silence of the car and filling up the empty spaces that Becky feels inside her at the thought of everything else too.

They arrive forty minutes later and when Becky hops out of the car and unloads her luggage, she lifts one rucksack onto her back and then she slings the other one over her right shoulder. The parking lot is full. She takes a few steps forward from the car and has a look around. The place is buzzing with people and parents and volunteers who are directing everyone in the right direction.

Kingston University is an academic oasis. The campus boasts regal red brick buildings, accented with pretty fountains and modern sculptures. It is dotted with lush lawns that are perfect for studying or hanging out with friends. The whole place has a private feel to it.

Becky sighs, frustrated with herself. She should feel good. She should feel happy about this and yet the more she tries to convince herself the worse she feels.

“Are you ready, honey?”

“Yeah, ma.”

She’s not. 

Not really anyway.

-

Becky’s given room 302 and it sits on the third floor at the very end of the hallway, away from the stairs and elevators. According to the information that she has been given, she has a roommate. The roommate is not around when Becky opens the door and steps into the dorm.

“This is lovely,” her ma says, smiling as she comes to a stop next to Becky. The window has flooded the room with yellow splashes of sunshine. Normally, Becky is happy to appreciate her ma’s ability for admiring the most ordinary things, but today she kind of wishes she had that enthusiasm too.

A glance to her right lets Becky know that whoever her roommate is they’ve been settled in this room for a while. Their side of the room is all gentle pastel colours with a mountain of pillows strewn across the bed and a soft comforter blanket. There’s even a denim jacket draped across the desk chair. 

Becky sits her luggage at the bottom of her bed and takes another look around at everything. “Can… do you wanna help me unpack?”

Her ma laughs and then gives her one of those silly looks that all moms know how to give with expert precision. “Of course I do.”

“I hate unpacking.”

Becky hears her ma laugh.

She finds herself joining in.

-

It’s over an hour later when Becky stuffs her rucksacks underneath her bed frame, giving the bags a little kick for good measure so that they are completely out of sight. She hops onto her bed and raises the black shooting star tapestry up a little more at the right hand side corner so that it is sitting how it should be. 

“I think that’s it,” she says when she climbs back down. “I’m all done.”

“You are,” her ma says. “I’m going to miss you. The first time you’ve ever been away from home.”

“Ma. Don’t-”

“Rebecca.” It is soft but a warning at the same time. “Don’t tell me I can’t miss my own daughter.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“This will be good for you,” her ma says, sitting down on Becky’s bed and tugging at Becky’s hand to join her. “You need to go out and experience the world. Meet new people. Make new memories. Get smarter. Score more goals.”

Becky feels the weight of the unspoken words on her shoulders even if that is not her ma’s intention and she knows that it isn’t, yet the words are heavy and capable of being a moment of burden.

“Score more goals,” Becky repeats quietly. “I think I can do that part.”

“You can do it all.”

“I’ll try.”

“I have something for you.” Becky watches as her ma goes rummaging around in her bag before producing an orange bit of fabric that makes Becky’s eyes feel like the surface of a puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. “I know you didn’t want the camera, and that’s okay, but I know he’d want you to at least have this.”

The pain throbs in Becky’s stomach and it is deep and warm but not in a nice way. Her rib cage clenches all the organs and muscles that are housed within it like someone has reached a hand inside her and squeezing as hard as they can. When its grip releases, Becky can move, reaching out to take it from her ma’s hand, twisting the camera strap clasp between her fingers.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I know you will.” Her ma kisses her forehead and Becky finds it in herself not to cry. “I love you, honey.”

“Love you, too.”

*****

Okay, Charlotte is a little nervous.

She’s not particularly fond of change but discovering who you’re practically going to be living with for the next year – in the same room, no less - is a whole other sort of nerves. She lowkey curses, Paige, for deciding to live off-campus this year and ultimately leaving her in this situation in the first place. 

What if they don’t like each other? What if they have nothing in common? What if they have to avoid each other for the next year because things are that bad?

Jesus. Fuck.

Charlotte generally likes to think of herself as easy going, but this… no, she doesn’t really like it. She supposes that her new roommate is probably in the same boat as her.

She had decided to head out for the afternoon to give her new roommate plenty of time to get settled in and unpacked. She had gone for coffee with Bayley at Deja Brew, a small café just south of the campus. Her and Bayley have eaten there a lot in the last year and their coffee is the best in the local area. After Bayley had left, Charlotte had stayed for another coffee and read her book, eventually losing all track of time.

As she makes her way through the campus with her book tucked under her arm, the place is still heaving with crowds of people. Thankfully, as a second year at Kingston, she knows most of the short cuts and knows how to avoid most of the hustle and bustle.

Charlotte takes the stairs to the third floor and makes her way to the end of the corridor. She pauses outside her room and leans in slightly to see if she can hear her still unknown roommate inside. She chews absently on her bottom lip, straining to hear anything from inside but nothing filters back out.

Charlotte knocks before she enters. Her roommate is sitting at her desk in front of a laptop with earphones in and Charlotte can hear the quiet hum of the music escaping into the room but it’s not the music that catches Charlotte’s attention, it’s the person’s hair.

And oh God, please no.

Charlotte must catch her roommate’s attention because she turns around and faces Charlotte’s direction.

No, no, no, no.

There is a long moment where Charlotte’s face washes blank with confusion, like the cogs in her brain can’t turn fast enough to take in the information from her eyes.

“What the hell are _you_ doing in my room?” It’s a stupid question. Charlotte can hear how stupid it sounds as soon as it leaves her mouth but it doesn’t stop her from asking it.

“Your room?” Becky spits back instantly, “this is _my_ room.”

“You’re my roommate?” Charlotte asks. “Of all the people in this campus… is this a joke?”

“A joke?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte answers. “This is definitely a joke.”

*****

They are in a coffee shop just off campus, apparently it is a popular spot where everyone goes. That is proven correct because the place is busy with students. They order coffees and sit at the window, the sign outside smears in the hazy heat, the sky blue and swollen.

“Wait, hold on,” Sasha laughs between mouthfuls of her coffee and puts her palm up. “Charlotte Flair is your roommate? Who put some bad juju on you?”

Becky shakes her head. “Tell me about it. Fuckin’ nightmare.”

“Wasn’t she always a bitch to you in every game you had together?”

“Yeah,” Becky answers, “and I was just as big a bitch to her.”

Sasha whistles, rocking her head from side to side as if sizing up her next question. “What are you gonna do?”

“Nothing,” Becky says. “You know the chances of me getting a room anywhere else on this campus at this stage?”

“Slim to none really.”

Becky grimaces. “Exactly. It’s bullshit.”

Sasha laughs again. “Only you would end up sharing a room with the girl you hate from high school.”

“Yeah,” Becky says, “and now I have to live with her. In the same room. For a year.”

“Look on the bright side, you’ve already survived one day with her.”

Becky huffs, pulls her coffee closer and then takes a sip. “Barely. How’s your roommate?”

“She seems nice,” Sasha answers, “I think we’ll get along pretty well.”

“Oh, well, lucky you.”

Sasha reaches across the table and squeezes Becky’s hand.

  
*****

  
_The heat is like getting thrown in front of a bus._

_Charlotte’s used to it but it doesn’t make it any easier. Her hands are sweltering inside her gloves and there are strands of hair sticking to her face that she can’t even move due to said gloves._

_The game has surprisingly spiralled into a defensive showdown so far. Both teams are cancelling each other out and both defenses have been rock solid. They trade possessions, making wrong passes and firing shots way wide of the goals._

_It’s… boring._

_Really boring._

_As the end of the first half looms, Charlotte watches as Paige takes the ball forward into the Falcons half and she tries to play an intricate pass through but it’s mistimed and the attack ends up fizzling out into nothing._

_“Jesus,” Charlotte mutters._

_It isn’t like them. They are used to rolling the Falcons over with ease and Charlotte can sense some frustration creeping into her teammates because of it._

_She glances over towards her right to where the Falcons new seemingly star player is standing with her arms in the air calling for a pass. Charlotte doesn’t personally know all that much about Becky Lynch. She’s done her homework, of course, but Charlotte only knows the basics: good finisher, quick feet and as far as public school players go, Becky was the best before she was plucked out and offered a scholarship by Lakeview. There were even some rumours that Riverdale was after her._

_Charlotte exhales slowly and forces some of the frustration she’s feeling herself out of her lungs. The Falcons move the ball quickly, completely missing out the midfield to go long. The ball is picked up by Becky and she skips past two Eagles players before unleashing a shot towards Charlotte’s top right corner._

_It’s powerful and the ball stings Charlotte’s palms but she gets enough of it to tip it over the bar. She hears some groans from the sidelines and she can hear their coach barking orders at them all to get organised and quickly._

_Charlotte catches Nia staring, caught between two minds on who to mark, and Charlotte gives her a shove forward – friendly but not without some force. “There and make sure they don’t get in front of you.”_

_Becky comes and stands in front of Charlotte, an obvious attempt at putting a barrier between Charlotte and the ball even though Charlotte has an obvious height advantage. Becky pushes backwards a little and Charlotte ends up nudging her forwards again._

_“Not so easy this time is it,” Becky says, pushing backwards again. There’s enough force that she knows Charlotte feels it but not enough that it will warrant any attention from the referee._

_“Class always tells in the end,” Charlotte answers and she hears Becky scoff in amongst the chatter of everyone else around them. “Doubt you’d know much about that.”_

_Becky grips onto the edge of Charlotte’s shirt with her right hand, knowing that if Charlotte goes to jump she won’t be going too far. “Keep telling yourself that.”_

_“Touched a nerve, have I?”_

_“Fuck-”_

_A ruckus erupts on the edge of the box, distracting both of them. The scuffle is nothing more than a few players from each team trading verbal blows and some silly shoves but still, Charlotte goes, pushing her teammates away from the situation. The referee disperses it easily and all of them are giving a stern warning not to let it happen again – it will happen again, they all know it._

_When the corner is eventually taken both of them go for it. Charlotte manages to collect the ball, clutching it safely to her chest but Becky goes with it, barging into her and knocking her over. It’s a foul and Becky gets to her feet first, holding her hand out to help Charlotte up._

_When she takes it Becky moves forward again, intentionally stepping onto Charlotte’s foot with her own. She feels the sharp pain of the boot stud on the roof of her foot and Charlotte knows without any doubt that it is intentional. It’s a little keepsake of this game from Becky to her._

_“Sorry about that,” Becky says as she jogs away._

_She isn’t sorry at all and they’re both aware of that._

_“Game on!” Charlotte shouts, loud enough that she knows it will be heard._

_Becky does hear her, turning around to wink at Charlotte and give her a stupid arrogant smile in place of saying anything in return._

_“Bitch.”_   
  


*****

Becky closes her eyes and leans headfirst against the pristine white tiles, and allows the strong, hot shower jet to massage the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders. She slowly runs a hand through her hair. The tips of her fingers graze the deep scar on her nape and she pauses, feeling the uneven skin.

A reminder of how determined she can be at times. Not that Becky needs any reminding. Though it happened a few years ago, her encounter with a boot stud is still easily recalled. She had chosen to put her head where it hurt and unsurprisingly she had come out on the wrong side of it. The stud had split through her skin with ease and it had bled and bled and bled.

Becky has no idea how long she stands there, but by the time she has pushed the memory to the side and turned off the water, her skin has gone a darker shade of pink and her hands look all wrinkly and gross. She gets dried quickly, drying her hair too until only the ends are damp.

When she returns to the room Charlotte is still sitting on her bed, her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest, her glasses resting near the end of her nose. She is almost halfway through whatever book she’s reading but Becky’s pretty sure she is still on the same page that she was on when Becky left to go for her shower, and Becky’s unsure why.

When she’s settled on her bed, she grabs her earphones and searches until she finds the song she wants. It’s a dark and moody take on ‘Bad Moon Rising’ by Mourning Ritual, and Becky finds that it matches how she’s currently feeling right now.

Becky’s never really noticed how time is like water; that it can pass slowly, a steady drip, even freeze or rush past in a blink. Clocks say it is measured and constant, a balanced tick-tock, part of an orderly world, well, the clocks are liars.

The last twenty-four hours have passed like thousands of camera frames being shown one at a time. In this small time bubble of their room, the silence is louder, the coldness is cooler, and the colours are duller. All the while her insides feel as if there is nothing there.

The song is finished before she knows it and Becky catches Charlotte looking across at her from the other side of the room like she is thinking something over in her head.

Becky pulls an earphone out and points her chin in Charlotte’s direction. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“You’re staring over at me,” Becky complains. “Like you’re contemplating something.” 

“That’s a big word for you.”

“Whatever.”

Charlotte laughs, low and sarcastic. “I wasn’t staring. I don’t exactly have anywhere else to look when I’m sitting like this.”

Becky glances back across at Charlotte whose eyes are now fixed on her. “When’s the first soccer tryout?”

“Didn’t you read anything in your starter pack?" Charlotte rolls her eyes. "You should.”

Something tugs gently at Becky’s throat. “I’ve had a few more things to worry about than information packs if that’s okay with you.”

“Wednesday.”

“All right.”

“It’s a big step up from high school.”

“I know that,” Becky snips.

The silence stretches between them again.

“Just don’t be late,” Charlotte offers eventually. “Beth hates slackers and, quite frankly, so do I. We have a Championship to win this season and the team can’t have any passengers.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Charlotte,” Becky says. “You know better than anyone that I can play.”

Becky passes the comment off lightly but she knows that it will sting Charlotte somewhere, and that’s really all that matters with the remark.

“Just think, Becky, if you make the team I’ll be _your_ captain then too.”

Becky huffs with an unsurprised, silly laugh. “Of course you’re the fuckin’ captain.” 

-

Sleep eludes Becky that night, even after Charlotte has finally drifted off after making another big dent in whatever stupid book she is reading. The moonlight leaks through the curtains and onto the ceiling, casting intricate little shadows that Becky tries to make pictures out of.

One of the shadows swirls into another, creating a bigger illusion of smooth flowing water. Another looks more jagged and squared and Becky imagines it to look like the camera that’s currently sitting a few feet away from her in her bag.

She projects the real camera details onto the shadow one by memory and it comes to life in her head: the lens, the lens release button, the lens cap, the mode dial… It’s something she is deeply attached to. 

She had gotten into photography when she was thirteen. It is something her dad was passionate about and he had passed that down onto her. She had started small with a second hand camera that barely functioned but her dad had always joked that despite photography being a great hobby it was also an expensive one.

It turns out he wasn’t wrong.

She and her dad argued a bit.

Becky still thinks they secretly both liked it. Well, actually, there’s no secret on her side any more. She enjoyed the verbal sparring. 

But it wasn’t the knockout, dragging kind of argument. It was fun. They shared sports and music too but photography was it for them both.

Becky took bad photos and her dad coaxed out her confidence, her skill and knowledge, still rough and unrefined initially, and Becky helped him in the same way, encouraging him to try something different or bolder, to move away from the safe subjects that he liked to photograph.

There really are only so many ways you can take a picture of a landscape. Becky had told him that once and he had laughed at her and told her that one day she would get it.

Becky’s heart thuds and sinks at the thought of it all, like a battleship being torpedoed in the open water.

Becky’s eyes burn and she squeezes them shut so that no tears can escape. There’s a lump in her throat that feels claustrophobic but she manages to swallow it down, feeling it slip through her chest and then into her stomach, anchoring itself there. 

When Becky does eventually fall asleep night has almost given way to morning. 

*****

“She’s just really… annoying.”

“You do know you’ve said that three times, right?” Bayley asks.

“And we’re only on day two.”

“You’ve also said that three times too.”

Bayley smiles and Charlotte shrugs. She’s sitting on Bayley’s bed with her feet propped up on Bayley’s desk chair despite the fact Bayley has told her repeatedly that she wishes Charlotte wouldn’t do that. 

When Charlotte had thought about what type of roommate she would get, she had pondered the idea of a jock, a nerd, a hipster and probably everything in between that, and she would have been able to deal with it without any problems.

In a moment of pure daydream, she had even wondered if maybe she would get really lucky and get someone who was just like her: focused, studious and into sports.

But never, in her wildest dreams, did she consider the possibility that her new roommate would be Becky fucking Lynch. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to complain.”

“Why don’t you ask if you can switch rooms?”

“Because,” Charlotte says, “that’s my room.”

Charlotte had considered it last night, briefly, but she has decided to dig her heels in. Leaving after a weekend would make her look like a loser and she’s already lost enough times to Becky Lynch without adding this to it. She isn’t going to give Becky the satisfaction of that.

“And she doesn’t like you either?” Bayley asks.

“No way.” Charlotte shakes her head quickly. “I’ve told you about her before. We just don’t get on at all.”

“Make a schedule so you both know when the other will be in the room,” Bayley says, “that way you can stay out of each other’s way.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Charlotte muses and then she lets out a loud groan. “In the next few weeks, we will be sharing a room and football team together.”

“Maybe she won’t make the team?” Bayley offers.

“She will,” Charlotte replies, and then she adds, “she’s… annoyingly good and she knows it.”

“You’re screwed then.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte agrees. “I’m actually screwed.” 

*****

_It’s still goalless deep into the second half._

_There are only a few minutes left before the referee blows the whistle for full time._

_The Eagles have missed a penalty and Charlotte gets a dreaded feeling that announces itself deep in her stomach. One of those feelings that tell her that today really might not be their day after all and the thought is absurd._

_The Eagles are the better team. They have better players. They have the better record… they’re just better._

_She and Becky have been up close and personal with each other a few times more. Every corner brings something different. It’s either Becky stepping on her toes or pinching her or backing into her so much that it causes Charlotte to react and shove back at her shoulders, sending her flying into other players. It’s ridiculous._

_Charlotte’s usually cool, calm and collected on the pitch but not today. She can feel her temper bubbling away under the surface, like a slow burning fuse that still has more to burn but not much._

_She twists her head from one side to the other, trying to get the irritation out but it doesn’t really work._

_Down the field, Becky knows the game is almost over. She’s heard both coaches shout it about twenty times in the last minute. The referee is seconds away from blowing for full time. The game is still tied and yet she’s convinced that the Falcons will get one more chance to score; they just need to make sure that they take it._

_When the ball comes to her, she decides against waiting for any help._

_Becky puts her head down and she runs, trying to get as far up the pitch as she possibly can with it. She keeps her head down and keeps herself focused. When the first Eagles defender comes to her, she drops her shoulder and stretches further into the middle of the pitch. When the second defender comes towards her she steps over the ball and drives in the opposite direction._

_When Becky finally lifts her head she’s pretty much all on her own. Everything just sort of blurs into one wave of noise: the sound of boots on the grass, players of both teams shouting, the crowd, coaches, everything all at once._

_This is the chance that the Falcons have been waiting for._

_It’s just between her and the goalkeeper now._

_The only thing between Becky and a winning goal is… Charlotte Flair._

_Becky has time. She knows she does but she doesn’t use any more of it. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s just the riot of excitement that’s pulsing through her. Becky doesn’t really know. She lets the ball roll a little more in front of her before hitting it the first time, she cushions it with the inside of her right foot, sending it upwards into the air._

_Becky knows it’s going in as soon as the ball leaves her boot. She knows when a connection is good and this one is sweet. She watches as Charlotte dives for it – it’s an impressive leap, even if Becky grudges it - and her heart sinks when Charlotte’s gloved fingertips reach it._

_The feeling is short lived because although Charlotte gets a touch on it, it doesn’t matter. The shot is too powerful, too precise and the ball nestles snugly into the back of the net._

_When Charlotte comes crunching back down onto the grass she can’t hear anything past the blood rushing in her ears. She looks up to see the Falcons celebrating and when the referee brings the whistle to his mouth to signal time up she punches her fist into the grass._

_It’s surreal. She isn’t used to being on this end of things._

_When Charlotte finally gets back up onto her feet, she hears someone calling her name and her head flies upwards as she tugs at the velcro strap on her glove, eager to get off the pitch and away from everything._

_“I guess that was the class you were talking about,” Becky shouts, and she still has a teammate wrapped around her. “Always tells, right?”_

_The fuse of Charlotte’s frustration blows out as she stalks off the field. The echo of Becky laughing is profound in her ears and Charlotte absolutely hates it._


	2. swimming the same deep water as you is hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the great response in Chapter 1! Chapter 3 may be a little delayed due to laptop issues. We hope you enjoy Chapter 2!

Becky has never been a morning person. 

Sure, she rolls out of bed when her alarm goes off, takes herself into the shower, and is able to brush her teeth with the best of them, but she is not a morning person and probably never will be. 

Hell, she doesn’t even understand people who are. 

Charlotte is gone by the time she is finished in the bathroom and they haven’t said two words to each other this morning which seems to suit both of them just fine. Becky ends up wondering how early Charlotte actually gets up because this is more than early enough for her. 

She does a double check of everything she is supposed to have or use today and by the time Becky grabs her backpack and heads out of the dorm room she is almost a fully functioning person. 

She ends up getting lost. 

Her first official day of classes and she somehow manages to get lost amongst all the other students going their different ways. 

She initially ends up outside a classroom for Environmental Geology and that is absolutely not her class because if it was she would still be in bed not thinking about it. By the time she retraces her steps and finds the auditorium that she is supposed to be in she is bordering on running late. 

It is a mess. 

She is a mess.

The auditorium is brimming with people when she finally takes a step inside the room. There’s a continuous buzz of conversation and laptops being powered on and notepad pages being turned over and backpacks being emptied of pens and water bottles and everything else in between. 

There are no spare seats in the back few rows and there goes Becky’s plan of keeping a low profile in the back corner. She refuses to even think about sitting down in the front row or even near the front. Instead she scans the room as quickly as she can to find any other spare seat anywhere. 

She finally finds one about half way down and her heart almost sinks. The free seat is next to someone with long blonde hair and for a second Becky thinks that it is Charlotte because that would probably be her luck just about now. 

By the time Becky’s made her way down towards the seat she can see that it isn’t Charlotte after all, the girl is too small and the ends of her hair are dyed a bright shade of pink. Becky almost lets out a rumbling sigh of relief. 

“D’you mind if I sit there?” Becky asks. 

“No, of course not. Please, go ahead.”  
  
“Thanks.” Becky makes quick work of getting herself sorted. She switches on her laptop and takes a gulp of her water just as the professor takes to the middle of the floor to talk. She ends up bumping into the girl next to her a few times as she zips her backpack back up and stuffs it in close to her feet. “Sorry. I’m all over the place this morning.” 

“I can see that.” 

“Sorry,” Becky offers again. 

“I’m joking, relax,” the girl says with a laugh. “I’m Alexa. How about you?”  
  
“Becky.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Becky. You look like you’re having a bit of a morning.”  
  
Becky blows out her cheeks. “I got lost coming to this class, ended up at the other side of campus so I had to run back this way and it’s just been…” Becky waves her hand out in front of her. “A mess.” 

“It happens.” 

“You think?” Becky jokes.   
  
“What are you here for?”  
  
“Apart from this dumb Introduction to Literature?” Becky says, rolling her eyes. Environmental Geology maybe isn’t so bad after all. “Sports Medicine. You?”  
  
Alexa nods at that. “That sounds interesting. Nursing for me.”  
  
“What’s your day lookin’ like?”  
  
“Um,” Alexa murmurs, pulling up a new window on her laptop and turning it towards Becky. “That’s pretty much it for me today.”  
  
“I have Introduction to Psychology too,” Becky says, tilting her heads towards the screen. “You fancy some company for that class too?”  
Alexa’s mouth twitches and then she smiles in Becky’s direction. “Sure. I could use some company in that class too.” 

*****

Alexa waits for Becky like she said she would during their lunch break. The class is in a smaller room tailed off at the end of a corridor rather than an auditorium and the first lot of students have just started filing inside when Becky rounds the corner, she’d made it a priority to actually get there on time. 

It hasn’t been a bad first day even if she doesn’t feel well rested from the night before. It feels like she is slowly leaking energy but she also feels that happy acceptance that comes with knowing you’re about to have your last class of the afternoon.

“Look who it is _and_ you’re on time,” Alexa says with a smile. “Shocked.”

“Yeah, yeah. I made it,” Becky answers with a smile of her own and joins the rest of the student group. “I take it I haven’t missed anything?”

Alexa shrugs. “I don’t think so. I got here just before you did.”

“The rest of your classes go alright then?”

Alexa nods animatedly. “They did. Did yours?”

“They were alright,” Becky answers.

“And you made them on time?” Alexa asks.

Becky turns her face towards Alexa and sees her eyes shining with humour and an amused smirk curling her lips. This is really what their friendship is going to be built on – her being a late mess for class.

“I made them on time!” Becky answers with an exaggerated huff and a shove on Alexa’s shoulder. “Never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope.”

Alexa shoves her back and Becky finds herself laughing.

The laugh is short lived.

She has a stupid, wild urge to turn around and walk back out of the classroom when she sees Charlotte. It really is a cruel twist of fate. But that’s not going to get her anywhere and Becky knows it, so she closes her eyes for a second and breathes out slowly through her nose.

When she blinks them open again, Alexa’s eyebrows have pulled together. “Becky, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Becky says, “let’s just get a seat and get this over with.”

She feels Charlotte staring at her too when she walks past. She can feel the gaze hot on her back like Charlotte is following her around and she probably is. Becky can imagine Charlotte’s eyes being rigid and cold at the prospect of sharing a class with her just the same.

The universe simply hates her, Becky thinks.

Her and Alexa end up sitting directly behind Charlotte and whoever Charlotte’s friend is. They seem fairly close though because Becky sees Charlotte lean into the girl to say something in her ear but it’s lost in the murmur of the class so Becky doesn’t catch it. It’s probably about her though and it is definitely not anything good. 

Alexa’s frown deepens as Becky lets out another loud sigh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

A beat of silence, and then: “That’s my roommate,” Becky says, tilting her head towards Charlotte. “We don’t really like each other at the best of times so sharing a class with her too just seems a little unfair.”

“Oh. That must be-”

“Fantastic,” Becky answers dryly, to which Charlotte turns around in her chair and sends Becky a sharp look. “Actually, make that really fantastic.”

“You do know I’m sitting right here in front of you, don’t you?” Charlotte interrupts her.

“Yeah. So?”

“So… I can hear you.”

“Sorry,” Becky says with a shrug. “It was a Freudian slip or whatever it’s called.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

When Charlotte turns back around to face the front of the class without another word, Becky feels Alexa silently laughing next to her and Becky counts that as a small victory.

*****

There’s no one in the locker room when Becky arrives after navigating a web of complex hallways. She knows she has found the right place when she sees the handwritten note stuck to the door.

After quickly changing she sits on the bench underneath an empty locker and removes her boots from her bag. She puts the right one on first, as usual, and ties the laces tightly before doing the same for her left boot. There is still some dried dirt in the grooves of the fabric of them.

Becky had first kicked a football when she was five. By that point she was overly active and was always finding a way to get herself into trouble. Her dad had taken her to the park one late summer afternoon - probably in the hope of tiring her out more than anything else, now she thinks about it – and set a brand new leather ball at her feet. She was a goner after that.

It became more of an obsession rather than a hobby and she had never made any secret of it. She would have to be dragged in from practicing in the garden after one or two yells out the window from her ma. Becky had slowly and surely developed into one of the most promising players in the school leagues by the time she hit high school and was now at an elite university because of it.

She takes deep, even breaths, trying to settle the nerves that she hates are already there. She’s in the middle of taking a drink from her water bottle when the door opens again.

“You’re here early.” Becky looks up from where she’s sitting and meets Charlotte’s eyes, the usual mix of annoyance and exasperation aimed at her. At least Becky can always count on that.

“Figured it was better to be early than late.”

“It won’t impress, Beth, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” Charlotte says, setting her bag underneath her own locker. There’s a little hook on her locker door that she hangs her jacket on.

“Who’s Beth again?”

“She’s… didn’t I tell you that you should read your information pack?”

“And didn’t I tell you I had more things to worry about?” Becky fires back.

“Beth Phoenix,” Charlotte says. “Head coach.”

“Beth Phoenix,” Becky repeats and then she frowns. “But… the team is called The Phoenix.”

“Yeah. Don’t make any jokes about that either.”

“Why would I make jokes about that?”

Charlotte shrugs. “Because you’re usually an asshole and that’s kind of an asshole thing to do.”

Becky takes another drink from her water bottle and then shoots Charlotte the fakest smile she can possibly muster. “Takes one to know one, Flair.”

-

Beth Phoenix is a university legend, Becky finds out pretty quickly from everyone else. 

She is also ruthless and unrelenting too. She doesn’t gather them in for any pre practice words of wisdom or encouragement; she just sends them onto the field to do five laps as a warm up.

“If you’re too busy talking you’re not running fast enough,” Beth shouts. “Add another lap and shut it!”

Becky hears the groans from beside her and she sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. The warm humidity of the late afternoon makes her feel sticky and her heart is hammering away in her chest. She can’t remember the last time she went running – she can, it’s been five months and eight days – and as a result her feet pound the grass with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

The large try out group has essentially split up into two. Charlotte leads the small group in front of Becky’s with the girl Becky now knows as Bianca. Bianca is the one who had been sitting next to Charlotte in their psychology class too. She is also Charlotte’s vice captain - that should bode well for her. 

When their laps of the field are finally done, Becky has to resist the temptation of excusing herself so that she can go and privately vomit. Instead she bends over at the knees so that she can rub the back of her calves and thighs that are screaming in protest at the exercise already.

“For those of you who don’t know me,” Beth starts, “let me give you an insight into my philosophy and I don’t care if you don’t like it. Number one, I don’t tolerate slackers, if you’re a slacker then leave right now. Number two, we’re a team. There are no individuals here. I don’t have time for egos or dramas so leave them at the door. Number three, you will get out what you put in and number four, those of you who do know me will know that what I’ve said is all true. Ready?”

There’s a chorus of ‘Yes, Coach’ around Becky, who is still massaging the back of her left calf. They are all given a short reprieve as Beth, Charlotte and Bianca set up orange cones at various intervals across the pitch.

Then they are split into small groups to do some agility movement sequences and it doesn’t matter what Becky does she always feels like she is a few seconds slower than she needs to be, than she _should_ be. 

Beth finally introduces the ball late into the practice and it doesn’t get any better for Becky from there. They run passing drills first at different distances and Becky’s performance just seems to go from bad to worse. The passes are either over hit or too short or a mile wide of who she is supposed to be aiming at.

It’s fucking maddening.

The shooting drills go pretty much the same way for her. At one stage, Liv, one of the girls Becky is paired with, jokes that the ball will probably land through someone’s dorm window after Becky has taken the shot. Becky manages to get the better of the keeper eventually when her and Liv run a two on one situation. It would probably have been harder to miss at that point. 

When Beth finally blows the whistle to signal the end of the practice Becky almost lays down on the grass in drained relief. Instead she leans her palms on her knees and breathes slowly in and out. Her legs are empty and there is a rising feeling of nausea from her stomach.

When she stands up she finds Charlotte looking at her, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. Her eyes are fixed as if she’s looking at something a yard behind Becky’s head. The expression on her face is a mixture of confusion and surprise, like she isn’t quite sure what she has just seen from Becky.

Something tightens in Becky’s stomach and she is the first one to break the stare off between them because of it.

It has never crossed Becky’s mind that she might not make the team.

For the first time, as she trudges her way back into the locker room, it does cross her mind.

And Becky feels the sour feeling of nausea reach the back of her throat.

*****

“Liv Morgan,” Bianca says. “I liked her. A little rough around the edges but I think there’s potential there. Her pace could be useful to us.”

“Agreed,” Beth says. “There’s definitely something to work with there.”

Charlotte takes a sip of her coffee and then she nods. They’ve been at this selection meeting for over an hour and she is already on her second cup. “I thought she did well too.”

“She’s in then,” Beth states. 

Silence rules the room for the next few seconds before Bianca talks again.

“Becky Lynch. That was… Yikes.”

Charlotte exhales, gently. “I don’t know what _that_ was from her yesterday but - and I hate to say it - she is so much better than that.”

Beth twirls her pen between her fingers. “I had heard really good things about her, apparently she’s an exciting talent and we were lucky to get her. What the hell happened?”

Charlotte pretends to think. “I have no idea but she’s a good player. She is the type of forward we were crying out for last season. Trust me, I know.”

“Do you?” Bianca pauses, looking at Charlotte, mouth falling into a quiet smile. Charlotte knows what’s coming next. “Want to tell us all about her?”

“Shut up.” Charlotte balls up a piece of paper and launches it at Bianca. “Idiot.”

“Her and Becky hate each other,” Bianca says, laughing. “High school rivals and now roommates.”

“Enough,” Beth warns with a shake of her head. “Your call, Charlotte. I trust your judgement as captain but any more performances like that and I will cut her from the team myself.”

Charlotte clears her throat. It would be so easy to say no. It would be so easy to have a space away from Becky so they don’t get in each other’s way any more than they already do now. 

It would just all be so much easier if she says no.

Becky’s presence in her life now seems to buzz like an annoying insect that she can’t seem to swat away.

“She’ll… she’ll come good for us,” is what Charlotte eventually says and she tries not to cringe through it. “Everyone has a bad day, maybe that was hers. She’s the best forward I’ve played against.”

“You better hope you’re right,” Beth states bluntly. “We have a Championship to win and we can’t carry anyone who isn’t pulling their weight.”

*****

Becky looks up at the scored ceiling of the room that serves as their office. There is actually a whole road map of scores in the paintwork that crawl across the vista of her vision. It’s all a bit dingy but at least it is theirs. 

Sasha’s parents own a hugely successful advertising company and as a result, her and Sasha have worked together for almost two years now. Despite all the technology, Sasha’s parents stay resolute on the fact that they want material copies of everything: invoices, contact details, contract details, you name it, her and Sasha file it. They are basically admin lackeys and they both know it.

On the plus side for Becky, if there are any big deals closed or events held then she gets to take the photos of it and she is paid handsomely for it too. Sasha’s parents have been good to her and as a thank you back to them she rarely misses a shift without good reason.

Becky lets out a frustrated whining sound as her eyes dance across the numerous folders scattered across their desk because she can’t find the one that she needs for the piece of paper in her hand.

She catches Sasha watching her from where she is sitting. “What?”

“You ready to tell me what's wrong? Or are you gonna keep taking it out on these folders?” Sasha asks, tilting her head to the side and pulling her lips tight in a smile.

“Ah, sorry Sash,” Becky says, finally finding the folder that she needs and taking a seat of her own. “It’s just been a rough couple days,”

“Charlotte?” 

“Yeah and no,” Becky says. “Yeah, cause she continues to be a pain in my ass. I can’t escape her. She’s there when I wake up, when I go to sleep, when I go home, in classes, at soccer… Every-fuckin-where. ” 

“Ouch.”

Becky feels raw, like all of her nerves are on display. “My tryout didn’t go very well either.”

“How’d you mean?” Sasha asks, a look of disquiet in her face. “I thought you would kick ass?”

“Nah. I was awful. It was embarrassing actually.” Becky laughs but it doesn’t carry any humour. “I couldn’t do anything right. I’ll be surprised if I even make the team especially with Charlotte as captain. She will be lovin’ this.”

“Oh please,” Sasha says. “She has to be stupid to not pick you. You’re better than her!” 

“I’m honestly dreading finding out.” Becky clenches her teeth and she can feel the muscle tone changing in her face; tighter and more rigid. “And I have nowhere to hide if I don’t. Imagine having to share a dorm with her after that? Jesus. Might as well pack my things up.” 

“Stop being so dramatic. You’re gonna get picked. You’re the best soccer player I know.”

“That’s because I’m the only soccer player you know, Sasha.” 

“That’s not true,” Sasha argues instantly, “I know Naomi but you’re still better than her.” 

Sasha shoves gently at her shoulder and Becky finds herself laughing.

“The coach seems like a real hard ass too, y’know.” 

“Isn’t she like a legend at school?” Sasha asks.

“Yeah,” Becky pauses; and then her cheeks start to colour. “An’ from what I’ve heard Charlotte is like her star pupil protégé, so, yeah. I’ve fucked it.”

“You could always tell the coach that you’ve had a rough few months. She would understand.”

Becky frowns and then she shakes her head. “Nah, it’s not an excuse.”

“I don’t mean it as an excuse. You’re allowed-”

“It’s fine,” Becky interrupts, and then she moves the conversation forward onto something else. “Enough about me. How’s your first week been?”

Sasha rolls her eyes as if Becky has said something stupid. “Real smooth transition over here.”

“Not surprised,” Becky says. Her phone pings with a message and she quickly types out a reply to her ma before her attention falls back onto Sasha. “So, it’s been alright then?”

“My week has been fine. I don’t hate my roommate... like some people around here. But I do hate all of these classes we have to take,” Sasha fumes.”Why do I need to take math and science again?” 

Becky shares that pain. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s bullshit. Anyway, there is this girl in my elective class. Her name’s Bayley or something like that, she’s kinda cute but in a really dorky way. I like it.”

“Oh, here we go again.”

“What? She is!”

Becky shakes her head and returns her focus back onto her work.

*****

Becky can feel a dull headache gaining momentum right behind her eyes when she gets back to campus. She doesn’t know if the headache is a product of her being at work or if it’s the lingering thought of going back to her dorm room festering and protesting against it.

Charlotte’s usually never home at this time. Well, she hasn’t been so far this week. Becky doesn’t know where she goes and she doesn’t care all that much either so she has never bothered to ask.

That is why the music coming from their room is a surprise when Becky eventually stands outside of it. She even double-checks the door number to make sure she is definitely in the right place because… it’s _The Cure._

Charlotte is apparently listening to The Cure.

It makes no fucking sense, like everything else about this situation. 

When Becky opens the door quietly, she finds Charlotte sprawled out on her bed. She is laying on her back with her head propped up under several pillows, her eyes are closed and her earphones have been pulled out of the jack on the laptop that rests on her stomach.

It is weird, is Becky’s first thought because it is usually her in that position like that, not Charlotte. Never Charlotte. She always seems far too proper to laze around in that kind of way.

“The Cure?” Becky asks, and Charlotte jumps a little, clearly not having heard Becky open the door over the music. “ _You_ listen to The Cure?”

Charlotte doesn’t say anything, instead she sighs and reconnects the earphones so that the music is instantly shut off before she shuts the laptop over so that the room is plunged into silence.

“I thought you’d be all about the classical stuff,” Becky says. “Beethoven and that kinda thing.”

The annoying blank, half lidded look that she usually gives Becky is firmly back in its place and Becky doesn’t give Charlotte the satisfaction of meeting it, instead she turns her back on Charlotte and puts her bag onto her bed, removing a few bits and pieces from the zip.

“You made the team,” Charlotte says and Becky’s eyes widen of their own accord, she is actually grateful that Charlotte can’t see her face right now. She is so momentarily stunned that her brain can’t come up with any sort of reply. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” Becky answers lowly.

“You get a second chance,” Charlotte adds, “I don’t know what was going on with you yesterday but get your shit together if you want to represent this school and our team. Even I know you’re better than that.”

Becky feels cornered, isolated; her throat seems to clog up and she is unable to form a good enough explanation for her performance yesterday. In all honesty, there isn’t one for her.

She had expected some rustiness and heaviness in her legs but she has no idea why she couldn’t even do the basics yesterday or why her brain was two seconds behind in doing everything she was asking it to do.

Charlotte is still staring at her and Becky can feel it on her back, like a big target. Becky thinks the irony of that is kind of funny. She turns her head over her shoulder. “What? You’ve said what you needed to say to me, right?”

“I was going to give you a piece of advice if your head wasn’t in the game and then I realized you probably wouldn’t take it anyway.”

Becky pulls her hoodie over her head and then throws it over her desk chair. “Well done. You’ve got that right.”

*****

Charlotte’s alarm goes off just before seven and she is quick to shut it off without opening her eyes. Her dad is a big believer of waking up early to tackle the day before it tackles you first. It is something that has inadvertently been drilled into Charlotte’s subconscious as a consequence.

She takes a few minutes to just lay there with her eyes closed. Becky doesn’t snore but her breathing is heavy and even enough for Charlotte to know that she is definitely still asleep.

When she finally blinks her eyes open the morning light has started to stream in through the window, it is more pink than orange and it projects shadows onto the wall next to her bed. She even sees a small bird swoop across outside.

Becky stirs and Charlotte finds her eyes straying to the other side of the room. Their situation is unbelievable. There’s still a part of her that can’t quite believe this is all happening and yet another foreign part of her is starting to accept it all because there is nothing else she can do.

This is her room.

And it is Becky’s room too.

That is all there is to it.

When Charlotte slips out of bed and gets ready for the day she is careful not to make too much noise even if a childish part of her really wants to.

-

“Practice will be Monday, Wednesday and Thursday nights,” is the first thing Beth tells Charlotte when she gets into Beth’s office. “We’ll have a light session on Friday’s. Same as last season.”

“Here,” Bianca says, offering Charlotte a coffee. “I figured you’d need this after your early class.”

Charlotte perks up and takes it gratefully; this is exactly why Bianca is her vice captain.

“Thank you.” Charlotte takes a sip to check the temperature of it and then she takes several more when she knows that it won’t burn her tongue off. “Much needed.”

“We have a core squad of eighteen,” Beth says, tacking the list of names to the white board. “Five on the reserve list if anything goes wrong and we know that it can in this sport. We have a month before the first game.”

Charlotte scans over the list of players, it is sorted by position and they have a decent roster going into the season, a good blend of new blood and experience. They are a little light on the left of defence but they can work with that or retrain someone to slot in if necessary.

“I’ve already put together individual plans for the players we know,” Beth says, “the newbies I obviously need more time with but I want some input from you both by the end of next week. No excuses.”

Charlotte nods in agreement. “No problem, Coach.”

“You really sure about Lynch?” Bianca asks. “We’re putting a lot of faith in her to fill that forward spot.”

Charlotte shrugs. “I can only go by what I know and what I know is that Becky is good.” God it really does stick in her throat. “And I think she will come good for us.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Bianca counters.

Charlotte resorts to sending Bianca a look; this is exactly why she wishes Bianca wasn’t her vice captain at times. She asks the questions she knows Charlotte doesn’t particularly want to answer or have any answer to.

“If she doesn’t and we don’t have an alternative plan then we will have failed,” Beth states bluntly. “Our eggs aren’t in a Becky Lynch shaped basket. We have four weeks to fine tune this team, that’s more than enough time to find out who is good enough and whether Lynch is one of them.”

*****

The booth they’re sitting at in the student friendly pizza joint is cramped without being too suffocating. It is loud and lively and there’s a steady wave of noise that stretches out in every direction from students in the surrounding booths to the girl behind the counter shouting orders.

“So… these are your friends,” Alexa voice filters out quietly from next to her.

Becky glances across the booth at Sasha and Naomi who are laughing hysterically about something that Becky hasn’t been paying attention to. She has been too busy with her food.

“You’ll get used to them,” Becky says, wiping her hands on a fresh napkin. “They’re just a little loud.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Alexa says, a faint smile playing on her lips. “It’s nice to meet different people around here.”

“I’m glad of the company since they ain’t giving me any,” Becky says, nodding at Sasha and Naomi. 

“So, Alexa,” Naomi says after a few minutes. “Where are you from?”

“Georgia,” Alexa answers, the smile now fully formed in Naomi’s direction. “Well, a small town just outside Atlanta.”

“This must be a big change for you then,” Naomi comments.

“It is. I’m still getting used to it all,” Alexa murmurs. “You don’t go to school here?”

Naomi shakes her head. “No, I’m over at Oakwood, bout’ an hour away.”

“She didn’t wanna come here because I’d show her up on the field,” Becky jokes, taking another bite out of her pizza slice and swallowing before speaking again. “As usual.”

“You wish!”

Becky laughs and tilts her head to the side, studying Naomi with amusement burning in her eyes. “Admit it.”

“I don’t lie,” Naomi fires back, and then she turns to Alexa and says, “I made Becky the player she is today.”

“We could be here all night with this,” Sasha huffs. “Buckle up.”

“Do you play too?” Alexa asks, her question directed at Sasha.

“Oh, God, no,” Sasha says, then she adds, “I usually go and watch these two idiots play.”

A ghost of a smile betrays Becky this time. “An’ you love it.”

“She does love it,” Naomi agrees instantly.

“Our own little cheerleader,” Becky adds sarcastically, earning herself a swift kick on the shin from underneath the table from Sasha. “Kick me all you want, I don’t take it back.”

“Of course you don’t.” Sasha says rolling her eyes.

As Sasha and Naomi go back to talking between themselves, Becky keeps her eyes on Alexa, watching as something tremors in her neck, like a bassline coming up from her chest.

“You alright?”

“It just must be nice,” Alexa says, “to have your friends so close by even if they do kick you under the table.”

Becky nods, taking a sip of her soda, knowing now where this conversation is going. “It is. An’ it must be tough not having your friends around.”

Alexa feels the pulse of emotion rise in her throat but she pushes it back down again. “Yeah, it’s tough. When they wake up, I’m still sleeping. When I’m starting class, they’re finishing their school day. It’s hard to get the balance when you’re in different parts of the country.”

“Course,” Becky says, “I can imagine it’s rough.”

Becky knows it is rough.

She knows what it is like to miss someone.

“Your friends are nice,” Alexa admits quietly, “I’m glad you invited me out with you guys tonight.”

A hard thump on the table makes Alexa and Becky jump, and forces Becky’s attention back onto Sasha who is now stretching a little across the table. “Don’t make it obvious and look around but guess who just walked in?”

Becky has an idea. “Fuck sake.”

“Your lovely captain,” Sasha confirms, the sarcastic glee evident on her face.

“I still can’t believe she’s your captain,” Naomi cuts in, leaning down to sip on the straw that sits in the middle of her milkshake. “Of all the people in the world.”

Becky refuses to look around, instead she shoves her plate away from her like she has lost her appetite and sinks further down into the booth. “I can’t get rid of her. She’s everywhere. It’s a joke.”

“I know you’ll hate me for saying it and I know we hate her,” Naomi starts, “but Charlotte Flair is _hot_.”

Becky’s gaze falls like an act of violence on the table. She is ridiculously offended at the comment. Her voice is too high to be completely genuine when she says, “You should leave the table for that.”

Charlotte walks past their booth not thirty seconds later, and she doesn’t even spare them a second glance. She just joins the take out queue and stands with her arms folded at her chest. Her hair is down and relaxed over her left shoulder and the sleeves of her denim jacket are rolled up to the crook of her elbow, her face stoic and impassive as usual.

Becky gives herself a little shake.

Okay, so, Charlotte is attractive. Whatever.

“I know you and her don’t like each other but why? What’s the history there?” Alexa asks.

Sasha loudly groans.

Naomi takes another sip of her milkshake.

Becky clears her throat. “Well, it all started when…”

*****

Charlotte is sitting cross-legged on her bed with her back against the wall when Becky eventually comes back to their room. It is late – almost midnight – and Charlotte is glad she is still awake because if she hadn’t been she would surely have been woken up.

Becky is about as quiet as a hand grenade going off.

She literally throws her jacket onto her desk chair and then she takes her shoes off and drops them onto the floor with a dull clunk, and then she rummages around for a t-shirt and shorts before she disappears into their bathroom, not slamming the door but shutting it with enough force that it clicks into place instantly. When she returns she grabs her earphones and settles into the bed, one arm resting on her pillow under her head to keep her propped up.

“How was your dinner?” Charlotte asks.

Becky blinks slowly and then she turns her head in Charlotte’s direction. “How’d you-”

“You’re not exactly well versed in the act of subtly, Becky,” Charlotte says, placing her bookmark onto the page and shutting the book. “I felt you glaring at me from your booth.”

That sounds about right to Becky. “Oh.”

“So, how was it?” Charlotte asks again.

Becky pushes herself forward so that she is sitting up, then she swings her legs around and crosses them. Her position mirrors Charlotte’s across the room. The question catches her completely off guard. It feels strange and completely at odds with the rough little bubble they have been living in. 

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

“Because,” Charlotte sighs, swallowing carefully before she responds properly. “We are stuck in this room together for the next year whether we like it or not and we can’t keep going the way we are so I’m trying to make the best of it.”

“Even though you don’t like me?”

“Even though I don’t like you,” Charlotte repeats. “Same way you don’t like me. I’ll try and be nicer if you will too. I don’t expect us to be friends but we need to sort this out if we want to live here.”

Becky remains silent for a second, clearly knocked off balance and the tension between them ripples through the air as she thinks of what she wants to say. “Dinner was good. The pizza is alright in there.”

“It is,” Charlotte agrees. “I like it anyway.”

“What are you reading then? That book is never out of your hands.”

“The Alchemist,” Charlotte answers. “It’s a classic. I’m almost finished with it.”

“I haven’t heard of it.”

“I’m… honestly not surprised at that.”

“What happened to tryin’ to be nicer to each other?”

Charlotte forces a smile and then it slips away. “That’s a fair point.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Charlotte pauses, her eyes flickering between the book and Becky. “It’s about following your dreams basically. The book.”

Becky rolls her eyes. How cliche. “I can see why you’d enjoy that.”

“I thought we were trying to be nicer?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Becky waves her hand.

“There’s also a fridge next to my desk on this side,” Charlotte says, pointing her book down to her left. “You can’t see it from that side of the room. Feel free to use it. Will save you running back and forward to the kitchen all the time.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

The conversation between them fades out pretty quickly after that.

Charlotte goes back to reading her book and Becky puts her earphones in and fixes her attention on the ceiling but even the music she is listening to can’t dislodge the confusion that settles itself in Becky’s stomach. 

Charlotte eventually switches her light off and turns onto her side so that she is facing away from Becky and Becky feels an odd sense of obligation to do the same so she takes her earphones out and plunges the room into total darkness.

It is weird.

And awkward.

Oh, it is definitely awkward.

It is the kind of unspoken tension that makes the atmosphere feel heavy and your heart pound. The kind of silence that practically begs you to say something, to smash through it and make the air feel thinner again.

In the end, Charlotte beats Becky to it and alleviates some of the pressure for both of them.

“Goodnight,” Charlotte says quietly.

“Goodnight.”  
  



	3. somehow everything's gonna fall right into place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I know... this very late but there's been a few things happening and it couldn't be helped. 
> 
> Hopefully back to a much more regular update schedule again now. 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments - much appreciated :)

When Charlotte was a child, just a kid in cute colourful dungarees with pigtails and a full set of milk teeth, her mom took her to the local library for the first time. There was row after row of neatly lined books with their spines facing outward. Specific genres colour coded with blocks, mini sections arranged in alphabetical order, a kid’s section with low shelves and big bean bag chairs and cushions.

Charlotte had taken the lady bug shaped bean bag as an open invitation and had happily sat down on it, sinking into it and finding the whole thing rather hilarious. She had then struggled to get back out of the bean bag and grabbed the nearest book she could get her little hands on.

It had smelled funny when she opened the pages up - stale and stagnant - and it had made her sneeze.

When Charlotte was a child, her mom would open up her bedroom windows on hot summer nights just to try and let the room breathe a little bit. Charlotte would lay in bed and her mom would sit next to her, reading her whatever she had chosen that night, some of them they read together numerous times and Charlotte, somehow, never got bored of it.

If anything, she loved it.

The older she got the more she read, and the more she read the more she understood. She would pour herself into the pages. She would read until she was almost cross eyed and the words would merge into nonsense, each page better than the one she had just read before.

It hasn’t really changed all that much.

When she picks up a book and starts reading, she gets so drawn into it that she forgets her surroundings. Her imagination takes over and she is free to conjure up whatever thoughts she wants about it without worrying that anyone will judge her. It’s like she can create a little world in her mind.

She has tried her hand at writing before too but she had quickly found that it wasn’t her forte in any way, shape or form. Reading, enjoying and dissecting a text was no problem to her but world building and fleshing out characters of her own? Apparently her brain just isn’t wired in that way. 

The library of Kingston University sits on the top floor of the building. The floor to ceiling windows offers a panoramic view of the student grounds and off to the left is the empty soccer pitch that Charlotte knows every inch of, back to front. 

Charlotte is tucked up on her own in the corner in a comfortable red fabric chair. The room is filled with quiet murmurs and whispers that float in the air, indistinct conversations between friends and other students that slice through the silence and solace that the library is supposed to bring.

She lets the book she is reading fall closed. It makes an exhausted sound, like a door shutting by itself in the distance: a small woosh of air. The sound matches the softness of the pages and how thin and delicate they feel underneath her fingers when she turns them over.

Her eyes follow the steady stream of students outside below her. Some of them in pairs, some of them in groups, some sitting on the benches underneath the sun on their own and others clearly running to get somewhere else in a hurry.

Charlotte spots Becky at the north eastern corner near the giant water feature that even looks impressive from up here. It is the bright blur of her hair that draws Charlotte’s attention in. Becky is crouched on her haunches at the edge of it, a camera pointed upwards towards the sky. 

Becky is attached to the camera; Charlotte has come to realise that over the past couple of weeks. She has never seen any photos that Becky has taken and she likely never will but she knows that Becky takes it seriously.

Everything she does with the camera is intentional and sincere and precise. Charlotte has seen it in the way that Becky unscrews the lens cap or fiddles around with the dial on the top of it or wraps the camera strap around her hand for no apparent reason other than she seems to want to. 

Charlotte has also noticed that Becky sometimes leaves late at night with her camera bag strewn over her shoulder and doesn’t return back to their room until the early hours of the morning. Charlotte notices her come and go even if Becky doesn’t think she does.

These days, though, Becky actually attempts to be quiet when she comes back into their room and Charlotte appreciates it even if it is never said out loud between them.

Becky still annoys her and she is pretty sure that she still annoys Becky too.

Still, it’s better than it was a few weeks ago and for Charlotte that has to count for something.  
  


*****

Charlotte is on her second page of notes when her phone begins to ring.

She ignores it in favour of skimming over the fourth paragraph of her textbook. She is hoping to get these notes completed by dinner time so that she can hang out with Bayley afterwards and not have to worry about them. Her eyes still when she comes to the end of the sentence she is on and she picks up her phone.

When she sees the name flash up on the screen she is tempted to let it ring out but she knows that Becky is also at her desk taking notes for one of her classes and it doesn’t seem very fair to subject her to that.

“Dad,” Charlotte says into the phone, leaning forward at her desk. She makes a face to herself – sort of scrunched up and wide eyed – and sighs. “You’re early.”

“You don’t have time to talk to your dad?”

They don’t have a schedule as such but her dad will call her once or twice a week and Charlotte can usually nudge him in a way so that he calls her at a time where she is in their dorm room alone or out somewhere else.

It is always the same type of conversation.

Charlotte swallows down the silence, looking at Becky from the corner of her eye. “Yeah, I can talk to you.”

Ric clears his throat at the other end of the phone, and sounds deeper when he says, “That’s what I thought.”

Charlotte feels her back teeth lock together. “How are you?”

“Same old, same old,” Ric drawls. “How are your classes going?”

“Good,” Charlotte says, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. “So far so good with that.”

“And your grades are what we’ve come to expect?”

Charlotte frowns. “I’ve barely done any coursework yet.”

“Of course,” Ric says, placating. “I just want to make sure-”

“I know what is expected at this point,” Charlotte answers, her frown deepening. She sees Becky lift her earbuds from the cable attached to her Mac. “Don’t worry about that.”

“You know our family history with the school, Charlotte, we need to keep our name-”

“I know,” Charlotte interrupts. “I haven’t let you down yet.”

Charlotte wants to add that she has never let her father down. She wants to argue that she has done everything that has ever been expected of her, that she has accomplished every grade she set out to get, that she has never let down any family name at any school at any point. 

The annoyance boils deep in her system, it churns within, hungry for the destruction that she knows it would bring. It is a conversation that she has given up pursuing over the last few years because it is ultimately like reaching a dead end in the road.

“How is your roommate?”

As Charlotte breathes in, she glances over at Becky’s face, smoldering underneath her usual stony expression, completely oblivious to Charlotte’s conversation.

There are a few ways that Charlotte could take this conversation but she doesn’t imagine her father would be overly interested in any of them so she settles on telling him that her roommate is fine and that they are actually getting on better these days.

“And you’re fine for money?”

A beat of silence and then, “I’m fine for money, dad, but you already know that.”

Charlotte hadn’t realised when she was younger.

She hadn’t grasped that her family was different. She didn’t understand that money was a powerful thing and not always for the right reasons. She never knew that not everyone lived in a house that was more of a fortress than mere brick and mortar. She hadn't understood at the time why her mom had left her father but she understands it now, and she is glad that her mom did. 

There came a point in which Charlotte recognized that money didn’t make you any better than anybody else regardless of what she had heard at fancy dinners or in well-rehearsed speeches.

When you have everything, you don’t want anything else and the challenge is essentially lost. It is half the reason that Charlotte is at Kingston. She wants to make a name for herself – her own name – and she wants to do it off her own merit and determination. 

She doesn’t think her father knows that yet but she is happy enough to wait for the penny to drop.

“If you need any more then you just have to ask, sweetheart.”

It is like dangling a carrot in front of her and the words annoy Charlotte. She counts to ten really slowly, keeping her frustration from getting the better of her.

“I’m fine, dad. Thank you.”

The conversation dies out soon after that like a match being held against the wind.

Becky stays quiet at her side of the room. She watches as Charlotte throws her phone onto her bed and drags her fingers through her hair. Becky removes her earphones and waits until Charlotte’s focus has come back to the present from wherever it has been during the phone call.

Then, she asks, “Is everything alright?”

“It’s nothing,” Charlotte whispers, annoyance pushing through between her lips. She knows it is misdirected at Becky but it doesn’t seem to stop her from following up with, “Nothing that concerns you anyway.”

Becky stifles her immediate instinct to take the bait at the comment and respond in kind. She thinks that Charlotte is annoyed and looking for an easy target to take some frustration out on and there is probably no one better for her than Becky.

Becky actually wonders how much Charlotte would like to take out on her, like a cork being pulled from a bottle and allowing everything to flow outwards because although they have managed not to kill each other in the last few weeks, she also knows that there’s definitely still an undercurrent of something bubbling away between them.

“I was just asking.”

“Well don’t,” Charlotte snaps instantly. “You don’t need to.”

Becky’s head buzzes with comebacks and words that she knows will wound, but she resists. Instead she reaches for her earphones again and murmurs out a “whatever then” before pressing play on her music so that Charlotte can’t say anything else to her and if she does then Becky won't be able to hear her.

-

It is late when Charlotte comes home that night. Becky even swears she smells the faint scent of alcohol come into the room with her. Charlotte is clumsy as she kicks off her boots and removes her jacket and tumbles into bed still fully clothed.   
  
She doesn’t say anything to Becky and Becky doesn’t say anything to her but Becky knows that whoever was on the end of that phone today is a sore point for Charlotte, so much so that Charlotte hasn’t been the same since it happened.   
  
She has been irritated and snappy and just a pain in Becky’s ass.   
  
Becky doesn’t know if it is because she witnessed some of the phone call or if it is just simply born out of frustration on Charlotte’s end.   
  
It is a funny realisation for Becky even if it is not in a humorous way. Charlotte is always immaculate and always put together and yet there is something that obviously troubles her too. 

Something that she doesn’t allow anyone else to see. 

In a way Becky understands it.

*****

Charlotte wakes up to an abrupt ringing noise close by. She rolls over in bed once, trying to locate her phone but she quickly realises that it isn’t actually hers that is ringing.

It is Becky’s.

The phone rings out and Charlotte stares at the ceiling that forms a perfect dot of focus like some magical point of connection. Her eyes feel heavy and there is a brewing headache that is on a nasty collision course with her today. 

As soon as the room goes quiet the phone begins to ring again almost instantly.

Charlotte tilts her head to the right to make sure that Becky is actually there and she is. There is some movement underneath the duvet but the phone goes unanswered again.

Charlotte tries to let her mind drift. She lets recent things flit through her mind: classes, practice, books, her father.

When Becky’s phone begins to ring for a third time in as many minutes Charlotte lets out a loud, theatrical sigh. “Are you going to get that?”

“Nah,” comes the muffled reply. “Not yet.”

“I think you should.”

“Why?”

Charlotte sighs loudly again. “Because it’s driving me crazy.”

“I’ll let it ring then.”

Charlotte feels the annoyance rise in her head and fly like a big black flag inside her mind, wiping away all other thoughts. “Why are you like this?”

“Why are _you_ like this?” Becky bites back.

“Don’t start, Becky.”

“You don’t start.”

Becky finally emerges from underneath her duvet and turns her head in Charlotte’s direction. They look at each other for a long moment, eyes lingering for longer than necessary, taking in the strange atmosphere that has engulfed their room over the past few days.

“Can we not do this so early?”

“You got it,” Becky says, rolling out of bed so that her feet are on the floor. When her phone begins to go off again, she answers it on the first ring, her voice still raspy with sleep. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there, Sasha. Relax.”

Becky rushes through her quick shower, attempting to dress herself and brush her teeth at the same time, and then having to wipe some rogue toothpaste off of her face when she looks in the mirror. There are another five messages waiting on her phone from Sasha – ranging from a gentle reminder to hurry up to an all-capital letter threat with several exclamation points.

Charlotte is scrolling through her own phone when Becky leaves the bathroom and grabs her jacket and camera bag. She has her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes catch Becky’s own a few times as she moves around the room.

“At the risk of sounding like a nagging roommate,” Charlotte starts, by a way of greeting, “What time do you think you will be home at?”

Becky shrugs as she gathers up the last of her things. “I dunno.”

“Very helpful.”

“Why?”

“Bianca and I need somewhere quiet to go over next week’s schedule.”

Becky shrugs again. “Alright, well I’ll try and stay out later then.”

The words hang in the air between them.

Charlotte pinches the bridge of her nose, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. ”I’m not doing this with you today. I never meant it like that, I just wanted to know what time to work around.”

“Good job you don’t have to then,” Becky says. “I have to go. I have a job to get to. Unlike _some_ people I have to earn my money.”

It is a poor disguise of a jab at Charlotte and they both know it.

When Becky leaves and clicks the door shut, Charlotte rests the back of her head against the wall and adjusts her glasses so that they rest further up her nose.

The progress they’ve made together – however little it may be in the grand scheme of things – is quickly regressing at an alarming rate and it feels like the first week all over again.

“Fuck.”

*****

“Ready?” Liv asks.

“I’m ready,” Becky says, and then she takes off. Her goal is the half way line and back again. The early evening casts a cooler blanket over them and the air is fresher and more restful than the scorching heat that plagues them during the day time practices.

A few weeks ago Becky would have balked at the idea of running so quickly but now with a few practice sessions under her belt she doesn’t mind it. It feels like her feet are made to travel at speed again - light but powerful - cutting through the surface of the grass.

She sweeps her arm down to touch the white of the line and then she pushes off back towards the direction she came from, ignoring Charlotte who is positioned just behind the half way line and overseeing the drill. 

She can feel the burn in her lungs at the exertion but Becky breezes past the cone that Liv is standing next to quickly and it takes her a few paces to come to a stop. She circles back until she is standing next to Liv and looking down at the time recorded.

It is good.

In fact, it is very good.

“Time?” Charlotte shouts across from where she is standing. She has Beth’s little notebook to keep a record of everyone’s sprint times and she can already see the improvements across the last few weeks.

When Liv shouts Becky’s time back, Charlotte asks her again and she gets the same answer back. Becky is quick, so much so that she’s several seconds in front of anyone else so far and judging by who is left it is unlikely that anyone will get close to it. Hell, Charlotte’s fifth on the list herself and she is no slouch.

“Looks like you may have been right about her,” Bianca says, making her way over with the bag of footballs and shoving at Charlotte’s shoulder. “I didn’t see her keeping that pace up for the whole sprint.”

Charlotte hunches her brows. “You’re telling me. No one is beating that time today or probably any other day either.”

How annoying.

“She’s getting better with every practice.”

Charlotte finds herself nodding in agreement. “She is.”

“I really hate when you're right,” Bianca says with a small huff. “It happens too often for my liking.”

A flash of something like pride passes over Charlotte’s face and she laughs and shakes her head again. “You should know that by now.”

“Whatever,” Bianca states, and then she asks, “How are things with you and her? Any better?”

Charlotte’s face falls. “Depends what day you ask me. Sometimes we talk to each other, sometimes we don’t talk to each other, sometimes we even argue about the most pointless shit. Right now we’re in a no talking phase.”

“Yikes.”

Charlotte swallows. “I know. It’s tiring.”

“It sounds like you’re married-”

“Don’t even joke like that,” Charlotte mutters, a frisson of annoyance surging through her. “That’s not funny.”

“It kinda is,” Bianca says, laughing at her own words.

Charlotte tilts her head in a half-hearted glare. “Let’s just get on with this before I replace you with someone else.”

-

“Control the ball. Move the ball. Release the ball,” Beth tells them. “As we have discussed you have eight surfaces on each foot, learn how to use them. I encourage you to be creative with it.”

Beth’s words make Charlotte think.

It makes her think about being a young kid and her fascination with kicking the ball against difference surfaces with different areas of her feet in order to see how the ball would react.

Most of the time she would be by herself, just kicking the ball against the wall, seeing how it bounced, how it came back, just controlling it. She found it all so interesting. Trying different ways, first with one foot, then the other foot, looking for new things: inside of the foot, outside of the foot, laces… getting a rhythm going, speeding it up, slowing it down.

Sometimes she would aim at a certain brick. Right foot, left foot. Making the ball spin. It was just fun. She enjoyed the playfulness of it all.

And after all that practice and all that fun, she somehow ended up excelling as a goalkeeper where her hands were much more useful for what she needed to do on the pitch.

Beth claps her hands. “Everybody ready then? Good.”

Charlotte has been so lost in her little trip down memory lane that she has no idea where she is supposed to be or what they are supposed to be doing. The group seems to split in half, going in opposite directions and she’s torn by which group to follow.

“You have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing, do you?” Becky asks her from a few steps in front, her head turned over her shoulder to look at Charlotte.

Charlotte scoffs. “Yeah I do.”

Becky raises her eyebrows in expectation. Her face looks calm today, as though freed from any frustration that tends to run through her mind when she’s around Charlotte. She says nothing, just sort of stares at Charlotte as she waits for an answer.

“Fine,” Charlotte admits eventually, “I missed what Beth was saying.”

Becky makes a small noise in her throat. “Tut tut. You’re supposed to be the captain, leading by example and all that stuff.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Becky smiles but it seems uncomfortable for a second. “You’re in this group with me, a pass and move exercise. You better get your gloves on.”

Charlotte crosses her arms. “Why? Do you have your shooting boots on today?”

Becky looks at the sky as if she is in deep thought. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Great.”

-

It turns out Becky does have her shooting boots on today.

“Are you actually trying?”

Charlotte’s jaw clenches.

“Cause you haven’t saved a shot from me yet.”

There is a definite confident twist to Becky’s mouth and Charlotte curls her gloved hands into a fist, suppressing a slow annoyed shudder that threatens to ripple through her.

Why is Becky like this?

“I’ll take from that silence that you are trying.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “I’m just getting warmed up actually.”

There are a few minutes of respite where Charlotte makes some good saves and she doesn’t come up against Becky. She does well to parry a shot from Liv over the bar and she gets her finger tips onto a shot from Ruby that takes it past the post.

By the time it comes back to Becky’s turn, Charlotte can feel the blood roaring through her veins, eroding any annoyance that she had felt burning in them before.

When Liv floats the ball in Becky’s direction, Charlotte expects her to hit it first time. She expects Becky to go all in on a powerful volley but she doesn’t, she controls the ball with the outside of her foot and brings it down.

It gives Charlotte a split second to decide whether to come off her line or not and she decides to do it, making herself appear bigger and the goal appear smaller.

Becky doesn’t look up at her, all her concentration is firmly on what she is doing rather than what anyone else is doing. She uses the inside of her foot to strike the ball, cushioning it between the sole and the inside of her toe. It’s all over in a few seconds when the ball hits the net. It is the perfect execution of a training drill.

“It really is just like old times,” Becky says, biting back a smile. “Me scoring against you. You’re lucky I’m on your team these days.”

Here we go, Charlotte thinks. Only when she gets back up to her feet, Becky is smiling at her again, not a blinding smile by any means but there’s enough tilt at Becky’s mouth for Charlotte to know that it is genuine.

“Maybe you’re right about that,” Charlotte eventually answers. “I was getting tired of seeing you celebrate all the time.”  
  
Becky’s expression changes instantly: surprise and then calm.

It is a joke and she knows Becky takes it as one.

*****

Charlotte feels her stomach drop out from under her when she comes back from dinner and she has to contain the swell of annoyance that she is currently feeling.

The left-hand side of the room looks as if a bomb has hit it – literally.

And if it is not a bomb that’s hit it then it is an extremely powerful hurricane whose name might just be Becky. The room is a disaster and Charlotte doesn’t think that lightly because, yes, while she is a bit of a neat freak and likes order she has never seen anything on this scale of untidy either.

Becky, who is sitting at her desk and furiously typing something up on a word document, seems oblivious to both the mess and Charlotte’s discomfort with it all.

There are various open textbooks on Becky’s bed, pages of notes on the floor beside the desk, laundry piled up high next to them, shoes that are scattered haphazardly around the room – some have even spilled onto Charlotte’s side – and dirty soccer boots too. There are even cables snaking out from Becky’s laptop and half eaten snacks on her desk which gives the room a weird sweet food smell.

Charlotte makes a show of stepping over everything with a loud sigh before she grabs a book and settles herself on her bed.

She tries not to let the untidiness of their room bother her.

She really does try.

After a while Charlotte finds herself watching Becky.

She watches, knowing that it won’t be noticed because Becky is too engrossed in whatever is on her laptop screen. Well, engrossed in that and whatever candy she is now eating with a lot of enthusiasm.

“Can you just say what you wanna say?”

Charlotte drags her eyes up to meet Becky’s own. “What?”

“You know what,” Becky says, inching her laptop away from her, “I can’t be bothered with you playing dumb. It’s annoying.”

That’s rich, Charlotte thinks.

“It’s just…”

Becky tilts her head and waits for Charlotte to continue her explanation. It is like she is waiting for Charlotte to come up with some sort of excuse instead of saying what she really wants to. 

Charlotte wonders what the best way to approach this situation is. She could dive right in and risk causing another argument between them or she could try and approach it from a gentler angle but she is pretty certain at this stage that Becky would rather just hear it head on instead of trying to go around in circles.

Then again, she has been really wrong before about Becky.

“I can’t live like this,” Charlotte eventually says, reaching her hand out palm upwards in the direction of the floor. “The room is a mess and you need to pick up your shit because not only can I not live like this, I won’t live like this.”

“That it?” Becky asks.

“That’s it,” Charlotte answers, “How did it even get in this state anyway? It even smells weird.”

Becky clears her throat and lets out a noise through her nose. “I was trying to find the notes I took for the psych class so I could make a start on this paper.”

“You haven’t started it yet?” Charlotte counters quickly.

Becky doesn’t answer immediately, and then she shrugs and says, “Does it look like it? Who even cares about intrinsic rewards anyway?”

“The class does.” Charlotte thinks it is probably not the best time to say that she is pretty much finished with that paper and it only needs a few tweaks before she submits it. “Did you at least find your notes before you turned the room into a bomb site?”

“Kind of.” Becky holds up a sheet of paper that is covered in slanted handwriting from top to bottom.

Charlotte squints from where she is now sitting at the edge of her bed. “Those aren’t notes… Becky, that’s a travesty.”

“Listen,” Becky says, slowly, “Some of my best work has come from notes written when I was half asleep.”

Charlotte exhales sharply and shakes her head.

She really can’t live like this.

“Just make sure you tidy this place up when you’re done deciphering that scrawl.”

Becky has a quick decision to make: she can needle Charlotte back and rile her or she can just stay quiet and get back to working on her paper with the idea that the quicker she starts the paper then the quicker she is finished with it.

Charlotte’s eyebrows rise a bit as if she is waiting for Becky to say something back but when Becky doesn’t, she rolls her eyes and grabs her book, laying back on her bed. Becky sighs in return and stuffs her mouth with another piece of candy.

-

The room is empty when Charlotte exits the bathroom after having a long shower.

It is also much tidier than it was when she left.

There are no shoes or cables to trip over and there is no weird food smell enveloping their room any more. Everything is back in its usual place. Becky’s backpack is missing like it always is when she leaves at this time of night. Charlotte is willing to bet that Becky’s camera is also missing.

She spends an hour typing up some notes for her classes before she crawls into bed, turning her attention onto her phone. The lock screen is an innocuous thing – a photo of a sunset she had taken a few years ago when she was on vacation in San Francisco. It is lovely in its simplicity and Charlotte has never felt the need to change it so she doesn’t.

She has a few messages from Bianca and Bayley that she answers and then she spends the next twenty minutes mindlessly scrolling through her social media pages and checking the notifications that come with it.

By the time she feels tired, Charlotte turns onto her side and knows that she won’t be asleep for long before she hears Becky trying to tiptoe back into the room without making too much noise.  
  
Or, maybe she will go the complete opposite way and make as much noise as she possibly can so that she will definitely wake Charlotte up.   
  
Charlotte rolls her eyes again before eventually drifting off.

*****

Becky finishes typing, closes her laptop and then slumps back against her chair. She is really starting to resent this psychology class. Resting her chin on her right hand she looks across at the person sprawled across her bed.

“Where’s Charlotte anyway?” Sasha asks.

“How should I know?” Becky forces herself to sit up straight, stretching her back out. “Probably out with Bianca or reading. Never met anyone who reads as much.”

“There’s a party tonight,” Sasha says, changing the subject and turning her head in Becky’s direction. “We’re invited and we should go.”

“Where?”

“Some frat house,” Sasha shrugs. “Kappa Sigma.”

“How are we invited exactly?”

“Roommates boyfriend. She basically gave me an open invitation.”

Parties don’t exactly fill Becky with much excitement but it is a change of scenery and that is not always a bad thing.

“Alright,” Becky says, “I’ll go.”

“Invite Alexa.” Sasha grins. “I like her.”

-

The place is packed when they arrive shortly after ten thirty.

Becky is also quick to discover that frat parties are as messy as she has heard. There are empty cups and bottles on the lawn and people strewn around in various degrees of drunkenness – some of them are literally attached to each other - and the music is pounding through the house walls with such ferocity that she actually feels the vibration in her chest.

Alexa is pressed in tight against her shoulder as they wait to get in the front door. Becky’s not even sure if they will fit in the house. Maybe it will just burst at the seams when they step inside. Sasha stands in front of them waiting to get in first.

Becky probably should have declined this invitation.

She could be somewhere else with her camera. Taking pictures of everything and nothing. Playing around with different exposures and time lapses. Seeing what the image looks like when she changes the shutter speed or focus or when she edits it to make it brighter or darker.

Just actually being able to hear the voice in her own head would be a nice thing.

She sees Alexa’s lips moving but she can’t really hear what she is saying so Becky moves her head so that some of the words can filter through.

“…. like this before.”

“What?” Becky says.

She is practically shouting and no one seems to notice because everyone else is doing the exact same thing.

Alexa’s voice is stronger near her ear this time. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.”

Alexa’s eyes are wide and shiny and pretty, and Becky suspects that Alexa is already a little buzzed off the drinks that they had before they even got here. There is something in Becky’s head telling her that this could be a long night for her.

Damn Sasha.

“Me neither,” Becky ends up saying.

“It’s exciting!”

Becky nods, not entirely convinced at Alexa’s words. “Sure. Exciting.”

Alexa grabs onto Becky’s arm when they finally make it inside the house and it stops them from getting carried away by a sea of people. Becky even grabs onto the crook of Sasha’s elbow so that they are not separated completely.

It feels suffocating.

Sasha takes the lead with ease, tugging Becky and Alexa down the crowded hallway towards the kitchen where most people, and more importantly, the alcohol is. She shoves through the horde of people, saying sorry as she does, although there is no way her voice will ever reach anyone’s ears over the noise.

Making their way to the cups, Sasha snags the three of them a red solo cup each and pushes their way into the keg. It’s only when they’ve squeezed into a small corner of the kitchen that Becky dares to take a drink and she is not surprised to find cheap beer at the end of the gulp.

It is grim and not really her thing. She is more into fresher and fruitier drinks even if she will never admit it out loud to anyone. Tipping her head back, Becky examines the ceiling of the kitchen and it is entirely uninteresting.

Becky doesn’t see the event unfold, she just hears it – vaguely - and then she feels the unmistakable pressure of someone being pushed into her so that she’s backed up against the kitchen counter, her hip pressing painfully against the corner of it.

When her eyes snap back down from the spot on the ceiling, she sees that it is Sasha who has been pushed into her and in front of Sasha is Bianca.

Bianca who looks furious at them as she holds her cup outwards, some of its contents running down the side and splashing onto the floor. 

“Watch where you’re going,” Sasha snaps, loud enough that it carries through the music and loud enough that a few heads turn in their direction.

“No. You watch where you’re going!”

Becky isn’t sure how the situation has managed to escalate over a push in a packed kitchen and a beer but it has. She teeters for a moment, a slow, strange moment before she reaches out and grabs onto Sasha’s shoulder.

“Calm it,” Becky says, “You wanna get us kicked out?”

Hmm. Maybe she should just let Sasha go at it with Bianca after all.

Then she remembers that she has to share a team with Bianca and the idea disappears like a cloud of smoke.

“Cmon,” Becky says again, “Just let it go.”

“You heard, Becky,” Bianca states and she smirks, just a small lift of her lips and a narrowing of her eyes. It is subtle but Becky catches it and she knows that Sasha will too. “Run along.”

“Bianca.” Becky can’t help but huff in amused disbelief when she sees Charlotte slip past a few people so that she is standing next to Bianca. “You need to calm it too.”

Becky’s brain does that short circuit thing where it doesn’t really compute what she is seeing in front of her.

Charlotte looks casual.

Charlotte has a beer in her hand rather than some old book.

Charlotte is at a _party._

There’s a pause where Charlotte’s shoulders go stiff when Becky looks at her, and she bounces easily on the soles of her feet. It is like she is trying to quickly figure something out in her head.

“Come on,” Charlotte eventually says to Bianca, “You can get another drink if need be.”

There is no malice in Charlotte’s words and there’s no sarcasm either. Charlotte lets her and Bianca be jostled by the others in the kitchen before she finally pulls Bianca away and nudges her forward back into the crowd.

Charlotte gives Becky a nod in understanding and all Becky can do is blink in confusion and what has all just happened in the space of two minutes.

-

Becky closes her eyes when she leaves the bathroom, her hands are still wet from the sink and she wipes them down her jeans quickly to dry them. The smell of people smoking is one thing - transient and unpleasant - but mixed in with stale sweat and spilled beer and it is on a whole other level of revolting.

Becky is quickly coming to the conclusion that this will probably be her first and last frat party for a long time. When she gets another disgusting whiff of smoke, she thinks this will maybe be her last party completely. 

She has also lost Alexa in the crowd which is another inconvenience for her.

She is not completely surprised that Alexa can’t handle her alcohol. She had been expecting that after the first ten minutes, but it is surprising that Alexa can’t follow Becky’s simple and easy instruction of staying nearby while she goes to the bathroom.

Becky finds Sasha easily; her eyes are wide and her face is flushed in that way that happens when she has had a few drinks. She is talking animatedly with someone and Becky knows without a doubt that she doesn’t want any interruption during the conversation, so she leaves Sasha to it.

It is the loud roar and cheers from the kitchen that has Becky looking up. The roars soon turn into unintelligible chats and by the time Becky manages to push her way through the annoying noise has completely infiltrated her brain, reaching in and pulling out all of the joy. 

For several seconds, Becky watches the drunken scene unfolding in front of her. There are two guys trying to clumsily lift Alexa up and it quickly dawns on Becky that the deafening chants are _for_ Alexa.

They fail to lift her the first time due to their own intoxicated state which results in Alexa erupting into laughter in the middle of the kitchen and doubling over as she does so because of it. Alexa’s eyes dart over to meet Becky’s gaze and then she beams in Becky’s direction like she has just recognised who Becky is.

“Alright,” Becky shouts, pushing herself forward to where Alexa is. “That’s enough. She’s had enough.”

Becky ignores the boos that are aimed at her and she can feel the heat of spreading outwards like oil and coating her skin, creeping up her neck and settling into her cheeks so that she can feel the heat of it.

Alexa stares at her with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open a little bit, like she wants to protest but she doesn’t in the end, she lets Becky pull her over towards the counter in the corner. She stumbles and Becky catches her around the waist, planting her feet so that Alexa’s momentum doesn’t take them any further backwards.

Alexa pokes Becky on the shoulder. “Another drink?”

“Nah,” Becky says, “I don’t think we need one.”

Alexa, Becky comes to find out, is quick. She darts forward towards the table before Becky can even react and picks up two random cups that are sitting on the table.

“For you,” Alexa says, shoving the cup into Becky’s hand. It sloshes over the side with the force of Alexa’s hand over, splashing their overlapping fingers with a bright red drink that Becky is definitely not drinking. “And me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Becky says flatly. She reaches up with her free hand to stop Alexa from taking a drink from her new cup. “I think some fresh air would be a better idea.”

“Outside?” Alexa asks, she’s looking at Becky like a soft-focus lens that has gone awry. “I like outside.”

“You like outside,” Becky repeats quietly to herself, “Alright, let’s go then.”

It’s a miracle that Becky even makes it outside with Alexa hanging off one arm, a sea of bodies in their way and the music shaking the soles off Becky's shoes.

In the fresher air, Becky’s lungs expand as if on automatic refill. There are still people hanging around outside and there is still a lot of noise around her but with the easier rising of her chest comes a sense of calm.

“I was having fun,” Alexa frowns, jutting out her bottom lip. She is pouting at Becky and Becky sighs.

“Oh, yeah,” Becky hums in agreement, “I saw that.”

“You’re pretty.” Alexa reaches out and twirls a strand of Becky’s hair around her index finger. The action’s too close. “Really pretty.”

“An’ you’re drunk,” Becky replies immediately. “An’ I need to get you home.”

Alexa nods and rests her head on Becky’s shoulder and then she closes her eyes.

This really is a fucking nightmare.

“Looks like you’re having a fun evening.” The words are spoken from behind her and Charlotte’s voice makes Becky want to scream. Maybe she does scream, she just makes sure that it is done internally. " _Really_ fun.”

Becky takes a deep breath in through her nose, the bitter smell of beer and smoke clings to her and she makes another mental note to either wash her clothes immediately or, if that fails, burn them into a pile of dust.

She uses the few seconds of quiet as a distraction, clearing her throat for the annoyed rant that is about to pour out of her mouth.

“I’m not in the mood, Charlotte. I need to find a way to get her home,” Becky says, tilting her head downwards. “And then I need to make sure her roommate is there so that she’s not alone because I don’t want her choking on her own vomit and then I need to come back and find Sasha because calling her would be useless, so just don’t, alright?’

Charlotte nods. Her gaze is on the house behind Becky, focused as she slips her hands into her jeans pocket. “I’ll stand with her if you want to go and get your friend from inside.”

Becky looks at her. “Why? Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t _want_ to do it. But I am offering.” Her voice is honest, and she looks right at Becky as she speaks.

Becky doesn’t feel in control of her own face and she feels herself frown before she says, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“I’m counting on that,” Charlotte answers.

“Thanks… y’know, for this.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes but says nothing, her hands now out of her pockets and her arms crossed over her chest. “Just hurry up, Becky.”

-

When Charlotte hears the familiar clunking in the bathroom, she rolls over to check what time it is. It’s almost five in the morning and she is surprised to find that she has slept through Becky coming through the door in the first place.

She pushes herself up so that she is leaning on her right elbow. The room smells faintly of beer and perfume that doesn’t belong to either of them: a strange mix that doesn’t really work or fit very well together. Charlotte listens again as there’s more bustle behind the bathroom door.

“Fuck.” She hears Becky mutter to herself, just loud enough for Charlotte to hear it. Then she hears Becky tack on a “shit” after it.

When Becky opens the bathroom door, she has a pile of clothes tucked under her arm and her hair is up and away from her face. It’s messy but it works. She shuts the light off before Charlotte can even get a word out.

“You’re awake?” Becky asks, quietly. The bathroom door closes and Charlotte hears the gentle thud of the pile of clothes hitting the floor somewhere near Becky’s bed. “Or did I wake you? Cause I didn’t mean it.”

“No,” Charlotte shakes her head. “You didn’t wake me. Don’t worry.”

“You sure?” Becky checks.

Charlotte runs a hand through her hair and then slides her palm against her eye to wipe away some sleep. “I’m honestly not sure what woke me.”

Becky nods and then fumbles her way into her bed, collapsing into it face first. She props herself up on her pillow so that she is facing across the room at Charlotte. “At least it wasn’t me.”

Charlotte laughs at that. “For once. Did you manage to get your friends home?”

Becky is starting to get a splitting headache and she can’t decide if it’s because she’s had to navigate a drunk Alexa and Sasha for the last few hours or if it’s her body reminding her of the awful music that’s still echoing in her ears.

“Eventually,” Becky says, “Sasha’s an easy drunk to deal with but I don’t think Alexa has ever had a drink in her life.”

“I’m honestly not surprised,” Charlotte sighs, “She’s going to have a headache tomorrow.”

Becky nods, she knows Charlotte is right. “Her roommate seemed sensible. We left some painkillers, water and a trash can next to her bed.”

Becky hears Charlotte laugh again, a breathy little noise that comes up from her chest and through her nose. “That’s gross.”

Becky finds herself laughing too when she says, “It’s gross.”

“Did you have a good night?” Charlotte eventually asks through a yawn.

“Nah,” Becky murmurs, her voice growing tired, “Parties aren’t really my thing.” 

“They aren’t mine either,” Charlotte answers.

Becky wonders if she should thank Charlotte again for standing with Alexa but she thinks Charlotte will probably wave it off or it will be awkward and she can’t really be bothered with that right now so she doesn’t bother

Instead, she yawns, loud and dramatic. Then she pulls her duvet up to her chin, her eyes already closing. “I need to sleep before my head explodes. Goodnight.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes and Becky doesn’t see it. “Goodnight.”

Becky’s breathing evens out instantly in the darkness of the room and Charlotte finds herself listening for a while before her mind finally surrenders to the prospect of sleep too.


	4. time makes you bolder, even children get older and i’m getting older too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support on this fic, it is much appreciated!
> 
> We hope you enjoy chapter 4 :)

Surprisingly, or suspiciously if Charlotte really thinks about it, Becky isn’t there when she first wakes up. Becky’s bed hasn’t been made though; the duvet has just been pushed right back as if Becky is intending to return to it at some point today.

Becky tends to go to bed later than her and as a result Charlotte is always awake first. Becky doesn’t necessarily strike her as a morning person and that’s why when she takes a glance at her phone, she is even more surprised to see that it’s just minutes away from being midday.

Charlotte frowns. She usually always hears Becky moving around in here but she has completely missed it this morning. She contemplates getting out of bed for food or going for a run before deciding to stay where she is.

She has no plans for today and one look out of the window tells her that it may not be sunny but it is still humid. It is the kind of heavy air that hangs close to your skin and stifles the atmosphere with a lethargy that she has come to resent at times.

She must drift back off to sleep fairly quickly because the next thing Charlotte is aware of is the fact that someone is in the room with her. She hopes beyond anything else that the someone is Becky. She doesn’t have the energy for any other scenario right now.

When she blinks her eyes back open Becky looks across at her. For a moment their eyes meet, and Becky looks as tired as Charlotte feels. Becky gives her a weak, apologetic smile as she climbs back into her own bed and Charlotte finds she can only return it.

“You do know it’s after noon, right?” Becky asks when she turns onto her side to face Charlotte. “Have you ever been in bed this late?”

Charlotte flicks her gaze back over to Becky. “I am aware of the time, yes.”

Becky lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Charlotte Flair is still in bed at lunch time.”

Charlotte chooses to ignore the jibe, instead asking, “Where were you? It’s not like you to be out the room before me.”

Becky pulls her duvet up further under her chin and muffles a yawn with the back of her hand. “I woke up starving so I went to get food at the canteen.” Then she crinkles her nose. “I’m not sure it was worth getting out of bed for.”

“How’s Alexa this morning?” Charlotte asks. “Enjoying the hangover?”

Becky snorts. “I text her earlier and she was still in bed. She also appreciated the trash can I left her, put it that way.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across Charlotte’s mouth. “That’s still really gross.”

“It is,” Becky agrees, “I think she will be in bed the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, a first hangover will do that to you,” Charlotte says.

Becky’s face shifts softly into something like surprise. “How would you know that?”

Charlotte says, “Oh, please. I’ve been drunk before.”

“But drunk enough for a bad hangover though?” Becky queries, the surprise still there in her features.

Charlotte laughs, which makes Becky tilt her head upwards to look at her and Charlotte follows it up by rolling her eyes. “Yes, Becky. I’ve been drunk enough to have a hangover.”

Becky shakes her head. “You learn something new every day.”

“Have  _ you  _ ever had a hangover?”

“Duh,” Becky says instantly.

“Are you sure?” Charlotte prods gently.

“I have had a hangover,” Becky objects hotly, clearing her throat so her voice comes out clearer than a tired rasp.

“Okay, okay. I believe you,” Charlotte says eventually. “Give Alexa tips on how to avoid another one then. I don’t want to be babysitting her again if I can help it.”

Becky laughs, enough so that she feels it in her eyes. “She won’t even remember that happenin’.”

“Sadly, I do remember it happening.”

“An’ you survived it,” Becky says. “Against all the odds, I know.”

“You’re an ass.”

Becky squints. “Thank you.”

When Charlotte goes to say something else, she instead recognises the steady rhythmic noise that is coming from the other side of the room. Sure enough, Becky is sound asleep, her right hand and foot are dangling out the side of the duvet.

Charlotte can only shake her head when she eventually gets out of bed in search of food.

*****

“Becky?”

Becky looks up as soon as she hears Alexa’s voice. One look at her face tells Becky that Alexa is still totally feeling the effects of her hangover, because there’s no other reason she would be wrapped up in a beat-up hoodie with large sunglasses on in the student pizza joint.

Becky isn’t feeling much better if she’s being honest with herself. Sleeping most of the day away always sounds appealing but the reality of it tends to be a little different – she always ends up feeling run down and more tired than she originally was in the first place.

Becky sighs before plastering a smile on her face. “You can sit down, y’know.”

She watches as Alexa slides into the booth across from her, bringing her clasped hands up onto the table and then removing her glasses. Her face is paler than usual and Becky can’t help the laugh that escapes from her lips even if she does feel equally sympathetic.

“I’m sorry,” Becky says, “It’s just… well, you look like shit.”

“I feel like that too,” Alexa admits quietly.

Alexa is tense. Becky can feel it radiating across the table between them, like waves rolling bold and strong towards the shore, threatening to knock them both off balance.

Becky shakes her head slowly. “You’ll learn the next time.”

Alexa looks like Becky has just said something ridiculous. “There won’t be a next time.”

“That’s what everybody says.” Becky nudges Alexa’s leg under the table with her foot in an attempt to lighten the mood. “C’mon, you were fine. It’s no big deal.”

Alexa squints. “Are you sure? Because I don’t feel fine.”

“Yeah, that’s because you drank your body weight in alcohol.”

Alexa takes in a sharp breath as if she is experiencing it all over again. She holds her hand up in Becky’s direction. “Don’t talk to me about alcohol.”

“Can I talk about pizza then cause I’m starving?”

Alexa grimaces, as if pizza is not much of a better alternative to the alcohol. “I’d rather talk about pizza than alcohol, but I don’t plan on eating any.”

“Not even a slice?” Becky asks. “Cause I don’t mind sharing with you.”

Becky watches as Alexa weighs up her options and then she watches as Alexa swallows. It takes her a few more long moments before she comes to a conclusion on Becky’s offer.

“Okay. I’ll take a slice then.”

After Becky orders and the pizza arrives, it takes Alexa the same amount of time to eat her solitary slice as it does for Becky to eat the rest of the entire thing. She doesn’t have any regrets about it either.

They spend the majority of it in silence with a few passing comments about mundane things like school papers and the upcoming Phoenix game that Becky is lowkey feeling unusually nervous for even if she doesn’t let that thought become verbal right now.

Alexa constantly worries at the cuff of her hoodie after she finishes eating before her gaze flicks up to Becky apologetically. “Are you sure I was okay last night? I didn’t embarrass-”

“Nah. You were fine. You weren’t weird or anything,” Becky says. “I had to stop you from doing a keg stand with some random idiots but that’s all.”

“Oh, no.” Alexa takes another long sip of her water. “And you took me home?”

“I did,” Becky confirms. “Didn’t your roommate tell you all this?”

“She did,” Alexa says. “But I just wanted to make sure for myself.”

Alexa fiddles with the cuff of her hoodie again, an odd confused expression on her face. Becky’s seen that face before but never directed at her, but she only registers it in a vague sort of way before Alexa starts talking again.

“I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“It’s alright,” says Becky, folding her arms on the table. “You might need to say sorry to Charlotte too though.”

“Charlotte?”

“Yeah, she stood with you while I went and got Sasha before we all went home.”

Alexa inhales. “Charlotte… like your roommate Charlotte?”

Becky nods. “That Charlotte. She's not a keen babysitter. Apparently you had a nap on her shoulder while I was inside.”

“I thought I remembered seeing her…” Alexa says out loud to no one in particular because her focus has gone past Becky now. “But I didn’t think it actually happened.”

Becky’s mouth pulls back into a gesture that can only be viewed as a grin. “She’s cool about it, don’t worry. I’m just messin’ with you.”

“Becky!” There’s a tiny catch in Alexa’s voice that belies the strength of it.

“You were fine. You need to relax about it, no one cares.”

“How long does this death feeling last for?”

Becky shrugs. “About a day. You’re past the worst of it.”

Afterwards, Becky follows Alexa out of the pizza joint and into the fresh air that’s surprisingly nice and not as humid as it had been when Becky had arrived.

The walk back to the campus doesn’t take them long and the tension has finally seeped out of their conversation. The blue haze of the sky is giving way to the darkness of night and despite sleeping for most of the day, Becky can’t help but yawn.

Alexa’s dorm sits at the opposite end of the campus to Becky’s and by the time they come to the large water feature that Becky has quickly grown to love, they are saying their goodbyes.

“You good?” Becky asks. “Cause I can walk you back if you want?”

There’s a smile on Becky’s face, a real one, no joking or hardness in it.

“I’m good,” Alexa says, reaching out to touch Becky's arm. “Thank you though.”

Alexa hugs her goodbye and then Becky is alone, and for some reason, her feet don’t want to move. They are stuck standing next to the water feature that she has already taken a hundred pictures of and will probably take a hundred more.

She reaches her fingers out and lets the spray of cold water cover her hands. She thinks about how she can manipulate photos of it further. Maybe she can sharpen the water in editing or use a longer exposure so that the water looks like one continuous smooth flow. Maybe she should spend more time here during the day so she can capture it more in the sunshine surrounded by people.

She hugs her arms tight around her stomach; looks around to let the new ideas come to fruition in her head and then looks back towards the water.

It’s simple, but beautiful.

*****

_ Becky fumes. “The screen is just white!” _

_ There are no leaves or flowers being silhouetted by the sun like she had imagined in her head. There’s no detail of… anything at all. The screen is just plain white like a flash has gone off right in front of her and completely ruined her photo. _

_ She quickly presses the button that zooms in and then back out again to see if that makes any difference – it doesn’t. It is still just a plain white image of nothing at all. _

_ “How many times,” her dad says. “You’ll ruin your camera and your eyesight if you keep pointin’ it at the sun like that.” _

_ “That’s why I used the trees as a buffer,” Becky answers. “So I didn’t go blind.” _

_ “Your mother will appreciate that.” _

_ Becky huffs and watches as her dad moves further forward into the foliage. There is something in there that has inevitably caught his attention but she can’t see whatever that something is just yet. _

_ “Sara orangetip,” her father mutters as he inches forward again, bracing his camera against his chest, a mirror image of how Becky carries her own camera. _

_ “What?” _

_ “The butterfly.” Her father nods and Becky follows his line of vision. “Try and be quiet or you’ll scare it away.” _

_ It is tiny and it’s almost translucent in colour, a pale white with the tips of its wings a vibrant orange with a jet-black border. The butterfly doesn’t interest Becky much but it’s also not un-interesting either. _

_ She hears the familiar click of the shutter and then the butterfly takes off into the sky as if it has posed for them long enough and has other things to take care of this afternoon. _

_ “A delicate little thing,” her father says, appraising his own photo and bumping into Becky’s shoulder. “Reminds me of you.” _

_ “Shut up. I am not a butterfly or anything like it.” _

_ It’s a scandalous thought. _

_ “Sure you are. I remember when you were this big.” Her father brings his hands right down to the joint in his knee. “Tiny. Just like that butterfly. It even matches your hair.” _

_ A smile twitches as the corner of Becky’s mouth. Her dad returns it and then continues his exploration through the trees that flank them on either side, looking for other wildlife that he can capture through his own lens. _

_ Becky watches the sun drag itself across the sky of its own volition, without anything to propel it further forward. She looks upwards, letting her gaze settle on everything and nothing. _

_ There are epic stories up there somewhere and lots of them. _

_ Maybe God’s and probably lots of them too. _

_ And stars, swirls of galaxies millions of miles away, hidden and still undiscovered. _

_ “I want to know how to take pictures of the sky,” Becky eventually says. _

_ That gets her dad’s attention, and his head turns so that he can look at her. “The sky, huh?” _

_ “The sky,” Becky confirms. _

_ Her dad watches her for a fraction of a second. “I think we can do that.” _

_ “Not butterflies and shit… stuff. Stuff.” _

_ Her dad tilts his head, accepting Becky’s change of heart. “Good save.” _

_ “I’m a striker.” _

_ “And a smart ass too.” _

_ “You can swear but I can’t?” Becky asks. _

_ “That’s usually how it works, kid.” _

_ A few minutes later, her dad points ahead of them, to where the path they are on gets steeper, the scrub closing in on either side. He has his arm tossed around Becky’s shoulder. _

_ “Did you at least get a picture of anything good today?” _

_ “What do you think?” _

_ “A giant white bubble that’s supposed to be the sun?” _

_ Becky rolls her eyes. “Exactly.” _

_ Her dad laughs. _

*****

Charlotte had once read a quote that said it was better to run like hell and get the pain over with and so that is the motto that she has largely lived by when it comes to running.

It is why she usually runs in the morning.

It is easier to get it out of the way and she prefers it that way. The park is also quieter and it doesn’t feel like the sun is about to burn a hole in her and she just generally enjoys the peaceful nature of it better.

Despite that, it’s later by the time she reaches the park today. Between preparing for their first game of the season and making sure her notes are in order for her other classes, her afternoon had been pretty much swallowed up by it all.

The park is all but empty of people and off to her right there is a myriad of trees and bright flowers, benches that you can sit on and trail paths that you can wander around. There is probably wildlife in there too that Charlotte doesn’t really want to think about.

The sky above her has a strange powdery look about it. The bright blue of the day brushing away into oranges and deep pinks, the darkness of night is only an hour or so away. A few clouds sail past in the distance and it is sharp and soft all at the same time.

Charlotte runs her first and second lap of the park with her mind blank and without any distractions. On the third lap she tries to push herself a little harder, anticipating the burn that will surely come before much longer.

She runs several more laps, almost enjoying the discomfort in her thigh and leg muscles as they tighten to push her quicker. The grass underneath her is as solid as concrete; the grass baked for hours by the sun. She can feel her feet hurting a bit because of it and even her chest begins to twinge in some gentle protest at how fast she is pushing herself.

She shuts her eyes for a second, trying to focus on anything else but the feeling that she should probably stop. Instead, she does the opposite and decides to push on for another lap.

When Charlotte eventually comes to a stop her lungs are screaming at her. She stands alone in the park, barely breathing and the breathing that she is doing comes out in short bursts and huffs. She cranes her head back up towards the sky that is now blazing orange and tries to filter the oxygen quickly into her lungs. After a few short deep breaths she feels the thudding in her chest begin to slow.

By the time she focuses back on the park she’s not alone. A figure has emerged from the trail path and they seem completely obvious to the fact that they aren’t alone now either.

It’s not a random figure for long because Charlotte recognises Becky, even from where she is standing at the other side of the park. Becky’s head is down and she’s focused on the little rectangular screen that she is holding in her hands.

It’s her camera because of course it is.

Against her better judgement Charlotte stands and watches Becky for a moment. Becky has her back towards Charlotte as she begins to move aimlessly close to the tree line.

Charlotte watches as Becky crouches with her camera facing upwards and then she darts into the trail, disappearing out of sight for a second before reappearing with her eyes still glued downwards at her camera.

Charlotte wonders what Becky has been taking pictures of today and then – feeling as if she is, in some weird and ridiculous way, intruding on that – begins to take a few steps forward so that she is walking over in Becky’s direction.

“Becky,” Charlotte calls when she finally catches up with her. She is silenced almost immediately when Becky holds her hand up at her.  “Wha-”

“Shhh,” Becky says quietly. “You’ll scare it away.”

Charlotte frowns. “Scare-”

“Shhh.” Becky moves again, entirely nonplussed at Charlotte’s arrival. She doesn’t even turn around in Charlotte’s direction. She just moves forward so that she is almost off the trail path. She kneels and takes a breath and Charlotte still has no idea what Becky is looking at. “Bramble Hairstreak.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte says after she hears the click of the camera. “What are you even looking at?”

“A butterfly,” Becky says, shaking her head and crossing her arms on her chest, her t-shirt stretching over her arms and shoulders. She watches as the butterfly takes off above them, soaring into the sky and away from her prying eyes.

“You…” Charlotte mutters almost in disbelief. “Butterflies? Really?”

Becky nods. “I can’t take pictures of butterflies?”

“No,” Charlotte shakes her head. “You can, it’s just… surprising. Is that what you always take pictures of out here?”

“Nah,” Becky answers eventually. “Just when I see one I like.”

Something flashes underneath the surface of Becky’s face and Charlotte hurries to investigate the sudden shift but it’s too late. It disappears before Charlotte can pinpoint exactly what it is, like reaching out for an escaped balloon; the string dangling so close but just out of her grasp.

“Can I see it?” Charlotte asks, nodding at the camera. “The butterfly, I mean."

“Sure,” Becky says, the distance in her voice is evident, its timbre laced with something Charlotte still can’t pin down. “Hold on.”

Becky presses a few buttons on the camera before she turns its screen awkwardly in Charlotte’s direction – it’s a clear message: Charlotte can’t touch the camera and so she doesn’t, she just leans forward instead.

The butterfly is green in colour, with its wings tucked in close. There’s a faint white streak that edges arounds its wings and there are a few white dots on its body. It looks like a pretty little thing.

Charlotte has no idea how Becky has even managed to see it.

“It’s nice,” Charlotte states when Becky pulls the camera back towards her.

Becky makes a noise through her teeth: unsure and then amused. And then she looks at Charlotte, her nose crinkling. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“Game prep,” Charlotte says instantly. “I like to get some miles into my legs before a game.”

“Cause of all the standing around you do on the goal line?”

Charlotte shakes her head and laughs. “Exactly that. Are you ready for the game?”

No, Becky wants to say.

“Course I am.”

Charlotte watches her for a second, the light of the sky reflecting in Becky’s eyes. There is no animosity in Becky’s voice but there is  _ something _ there lurking beneath the surface. Charlotte doesn’t think it is her place to ask about it.

“Good.”

“You heading back to campus now or?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte says, pulling her t-shirt away from her at the waist. “Shower and dinner. Are you?”

“Nah, I’ll be back later though.”

Charlotte accepts the simple answer with a nod and begins her walk back across the park. She hears Becky’s camera going off a few times behind her and she has to resist the odd urge to look back to see what Becky has found now.

*****

Charlotte trails a hand through the row of fabric on the rack, trying to come to a decision. She has mentally said no to every shirt she has seen today but she knows she will need to buy one or Bayley will keep dragging her from store to store despite Charlotte’s quiet protests.

The mall is lively and there is music playing through the speakers above her, Charlotte finds herself humming along to the few cheesy pop songs that she recognises.

“I like this one,” Bayley says from beside her. She holds out a shirt from the next rail. It’s white in colour and fairly plain. It’s actually not too bad. “It’ll look good on you.”

“You think?”

Bayley smiles. “Would I lie to you?”

“No,” Charlotte concedes.

By the time Charlotte finally pays for the shirt and they make their way back outside the store, she lets out a sigh and she and Bayley fall into step together, weaving their way around everyone else.

“You’re all up in your own head today,” Bayley murmurs.

It’s true, she is.

“It’s game week,” Charlotte says, “you know what I get like. ”

“Yeah.” Bayley bumps into her gently. “Really cranky.”

“Hey,” Charlotte protests, even though she knows that it falls on deaf ears. “It’s a big game. We have a strong team but we did last year too and we didn’t win anything.”

“I think this year will be better,” Bayley says. “I have a good feeling about it.”

“I’m not surprised at that.”

“I like to look on the bright side of things,” Bayley says.

Charlotte can only roll her eyes. “You’re coming to the game, right?”

She knows Bayley will be there, she doesn’t think Bayley has ever let her down with anything before. It’s part of the reason why Bayley has become such a good friend to her but there’s some added comfort of having someone in your corner supporting you out on the pitch.

Someone who isn’t your parents. Her mom and dad will probably sit at opposite ends of the stand and she will have to act like she is delighted to see the both of them there.

Bayley nods eagerly. “Of course. I’m actually going with Sasha.”

“Sasha?” Charlotte scrunches up her nose, it’s not in disapproval per se but it is in some surprise. “Really?”

Bayley nods again. She doesn’t launch into a complete explanation on Charlotte’s behalf but she does say, “She asked me to go so I said yeah.”

Charlotte stays silent as they continue walking, waiting for Bayley to continue because she knows that Bayley will eventually.

“We get along well,” Bayley adds. “She’s going to watch Becky play.”

“I figured that. I think her and Becky are good friends.”

“They are,” Bayley agrees. “Are you and Becky getting along better?”

Charlotte’s mind races. It is still all a bit tangled when it comes to Becky. “I think…” She shrugs. “I think so? I never really know with her. She doesn’t look like she hates me every day though so that’s a positive.”

Bayley’s mouth pulls into a bare, stripped down smile. “And are you tolerating her better?

“Yes,” Charlotte says, after a beat of silence. “Obviously. She’s… not that bad.”

For some reason Charlotte doesn’t want to add that she is completely convinced that there’s a totally different side to Becky that she didn’t expect, nor that she has seen tiny glimpses of that side of Becky here and there.

Bayley looks amused, amused in the same way that a parent is when their kid has just said something silly. “See, and we thought you’d be screwed with her. Instead it’s working out better.”

“I just need my dad to back off a bit and everything would be…” Charlotte gestures her free hand out in front of them. “Less stressful.”

“Is he still on your case?”

Charlotte feels something rake claws down her spine. “Sometimes I think he always will be.”

“He won’t,” Bayley says instantly, “you've got your whole life ahead of you and you’re going to make something brilliant of it. I know you will.”

Charlotte doesn’t say anything in return, she just slips her arm through Bayley’s and leans into her. Sometimes, she wishes she could be more like Bayley in her nature. Optimistic. Happy. Hopeful. She radiates light in a way that Charlotte probably doesn’t or maybe even can’t. Bayley has an annoyingly positive spin on everything, even though Charlotte reasons it’s probably the best way to be in life.

*****

Becky ties the laces on her right boot and then she moves over to her left foot. She pulls her socks up over her knees and then she closes her eyes and rests her head back against her locker.

She can hear the rumble of people outside like a distant radio. Becky never gets nervous about playing in front of crowds, but she is nervous about the prospect of playing in front of this one.

Her ma is out there. Sasha and Alexa are too.

They are here for her.

Becky feels the first pulse of anxiety rise in her throat and then she pushes it back down again. She keeps her eyes fixed on the empty locker directly across from her and her fingers form a fist and then open up again, like a pulse, something that happens when she is nervous.

“I don’t expect any fireworks today,” Beth states, folding her arms across her chest. “I do expect a win though. Westview are good. It’ll be a tough game but we are better. Stay focused, remember everything we have planned for.”

There’s a chorus of “Yes Coach” in the locker room.

“I want to see you all up there at the end of the season.” Beth points to the wall where previous championship flags have been framed, the dates proudly printed in gold. “That starts today.” 

“We treat every single game like a championship winning game,” Charlotte adds. She brings her gloved hands together in a small bang. “Let’s go!”

Becky lets out a slow controlled breath and attempts to relax her body. She runs her hands from behind her thighs to the back of her calves so that she can loosen the blood in them as she stands up.

Becky’s movements are slow and unguided as she walks out onto the field. The sun is scorching and she tilts her head back to see the field of blue above them that stretches far beyond where her eyes can reach, where small birds cut across the air with ease and clouds don’t dare linger.

When she turns her head towards the stand and only sees her ma and Sasha, Becky’s nose starts to burn and the corners of her eyes dampen. Thinking of her dad still makes her emotional. She thinks of him dragging himself off the couch back home to kick a ball around with her in the garden whether it was rain, hail or snow.

Her father had a progressive way of thinking. He always told her that she should do whatever she loved and she knew from the second she started kicking a football around with him that she shared the same passion for the sport.

He never pushed her though and he let her take bumps and bruises in games like every other kid in her teams but he was always right there afterwards to pick her back up and help her dust herself off.

He would tell her that getting stuck in was always a good thing and he was right; Becky has never stopped getting stuck in on the playing field since.

Sometimes memories touch the softest part of the wound and it is easy to see how that wound can start bleeding again.

She watches as her ma and Sasha stand and clap as Alexa makes her way down the row to sit with them all. It takes her a second but Becky also recognises Bayley who is next to Sasha too. Bayley who is definitely here for Charlotte…. and Sasha, Becky supposes.

She watches as Sasha whistles and yells Becky’s name out and despite the voracious bumper crowd that is packed into the university stands, Becky is certain that she can hear Sasha encouraging her from where she is standing.

She is so invested in what Sasha is doing that she all but misses the referee blowing the whistle for the game to start.

-

Becky skies a shot.

Completely misreads Liv’s intentions to make a run.

Takes too long to pull the trigger on a pass.

Then she loses out on a fifty-fifty challenge just to add insult to injury.

Becky’s off her game.

Her heart beats viciously against her chest, sweat dripping from her forehead and stinging her eyes, her hands shaky and clammy. She watches as the girl who has just dispossessed her runs off with the ball, leaving Becky in a crumpled heap on the ground.

“Fuck!” She thumps the grass with her fist, the shock vibrating through her knuckles, and after forty minutes on the field she wishes she could just leave and shut the whole world off from watching this horror show.

She is only there for a few moments before Liv comes over to where she is on the grass, reaching her hand out and helping Becky back up without so much as a word.

When she gets back on her feet she drifts over towards the left of the pitch, almost sulking. Almost hoping that no one attempts to find her with a pass. She watches as Charlotte plays it short and then it ends up at Liv’s feet. Liv who usually always tries to find Becky with a pass. It’s what they have practiced over and over again.

But it’s like Liv knows because this time she completely bypasses Becky, choosing to take the ball on a wander by herself. She does everything right until their keeper makes a ridiculous save that keeps the game even.

They aren’t playing well and Westview are running circles around them except for the odd chance they create.

Westview are dominating possession, creating the best chances and getting the rub of the green.

It all just winds Becky up further.

When the referee blows for half time, Becky is off the field first. She stalks past their locker room in favour of the bathroom. She splashes her face with water and leans over the sink, gripping onto it hard enough that she wonders if the porcelain might crack and shatter underneath her finger tips.

When the door swings open and she glances in the mirror to see who has followed her she bites her tongue.

“It’s not the end of the world, Becky,” Charlotte says.

“What do you know?”

“I know this game,” Charlotte offers. “The same way you do. One bad half doesn’t mean anything.”

Becky grips the sink harder. She glances down at her hands and then back up at Charlotte through the mirror. “I know.”

The idea of Charlotte trying to help her – even a month or two ago – would have sounded utterly absurd to her but there is no movement in Charlotte’s face. No hint that she isn’t serious about her intentions.

The brown in Becky’s eyes harden. The muscles in her jaw waver under the strain that she is putting them under. “Everything I touch isn’t working. It’s fucking shit.”

Charlotte’s expression softens for a moment. “You’re thinking too hard about it and letting your mistakes get in the way.”

Becky leans forward again, her eyes fixed on the space between the mirror and the sink. “I’m better than this.”

“I know,” Charlotte answers. “Even I know that and I never really thought highly of you as a player.”

It’s an attempt to break the tension and it works. A smile tugs at the corners of Becky’s lips as if there’s invisible string trying to play tug-of-war. “That’s cause I was always winnin’ against you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlotte says. “We need you in this game, Becky.”

“I know.”

“So, get your head out of your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We have a big half coming up.”

Becky lets out a sigh. “Alright.”

Charlotte can see in Becky’s face that she believes her, but the furrow in her brow is still enough of an indicator that Becky isn’t completely happy.

-

Becky gets into a better rhythm in the second half.

The ball sticks to her and the passes that weren’t happening for her in the first half now are. Her and Liv link up exactly how they should and they begin to cause the Westview defence all sorts of trouble. They start to take control of the game and Westview begin to sit in deeper, clearly happy with a draw.

Becky, on the other hand, seems to spring into life.

When the ball reaches her from a throw-in Becky considers for a moment, then reduces the game to walking pace. Standing upright over the ball, she computes each fragment of information, every angle and endless possibilities as she contemplates her next move.

What to do next? At times it feels like there are so many ideas running through her head, so many split-second recalculations and fresh perceptions that she can make one step or one move too many.

In the search for the cleanest pass or shot, Becky can be guilty of allowing her brain to overwrite the optimum time to pull the trigger.

But when she slows the game down and fronts up her opponent one on one, she has this unique ability to make the other twenty players disappear for a few seconds.

In this vortex the atmosphere dies and it’s an intimate battle, like she’s back on the school playground, teasing the opponent with a feint to the left or a step over the other way, willing her to make the first move.

Inevitably, opponents have learned that when you are dealing with someone who has ballet feet, the least worst option is to react to what Becky does rather than run the risk of inciting a flash of skill or a lightning quick combination.

When Becky sells the midfielder a dummy by pretending to go with her left foot before cutting inside with her right. She spins and stretches her way past her opponent, turning a nothing throw-in on the half way line into what is now her arena.

She picks out Liv’s overlapping run and then gets the clipped ball back and it nestles to the ground. Then comes the first fake as she pretends to wind up a shot.

As Charlotte watches on from her position on the edge of the Phoenix’ box she can see the yards to attack are there, she just has no idea if Becky will take them.

She can practically see Becky’s brain weighing up the distance and the reaction, assessing whether it is worth one more fake to work a clearer chance for them.

Charlotte yells from the opposite side of the field.

She yells at Becky to go for it.

She yells at Becky to take the damn shot.

A subtle shift of Becky’s feet is all that’s needed before she strikes across goal into the far top corner. There is no backlift on the ball as both of Becky’s feet are powered into the air.

It is ferocity replaced by finesse.

Chaos overwritten with calm.

Charlotte brings her arms up in the air and her celebration is lost in the noise of the crowd. She watches as Liv jumps onto Becky’s back and Bianca all but tackles them both to the ground.

Charlotte ponders going to celebrate with them but decides against it in case they get caught out with some stupid counter attack that no one is ready for.

Instead she raises her hand up at her mom and then further along to her dad, who is standing in applause, in some grand show of support for them all. When she finally finds Bayley, she is tangled up in Sasha and both of them are celebrating with Alexa.

By the time they all regroup, Becky has a smile plastered on her face and she sends a little salute over towards Charlotte who simply accepts it with a smile of her own.

-

After the game Becky showers and finishes a full bottle of water in one go. The locker room begins to empty as everyone packs up their stuff, most of them giving Becky a shove or a hug on the way out. Liv had even gone for a headlock, with Becky having to pretend that she didn’t enjoy it to keep some level of respect for herself.

She has just zipped her bag up when Charlotte comes into the changing room with her own bag over her shoulder and her hair is still damp from her shower. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m always the last to leave,” Charlotte says as a way of explanation. “It’s always been a thing I’ve done.”

“It’s a captain kinda thing.”

Her and Charlotte are in a weird place.

They aren’t friends, Becky doesn’t think. But despite their history, despite their differences and despite their frequent run-ins they do have threads that keep connecting them to each other.

“You did good today, Becky.”

“Is that another compliment from you?”

“You’re an ass.” Charlotte looks across at her, and then a smile curls across her face and she begins to laugh. “Such an ass.”

“Thanks,” Becky says, and she wills her face not to turn a darker shade of red. “For today, I mean.”

Charlotte shrugs. “It’s what a captain does for the team.”

Becky shakes her head. “Nah, you didn’t have to do that for me of all people.”

“You needed it,” is Charlotte’s simple answer.

“Look,” Becky says to her, the beginnings of an explanation.

“Becky, it’s fine. We’re a team on the pitch, it’s what we do.”

“Alright.”

A smile passes across Charlotte’s face, aimed at Becky, and Becky feels a strange sense of relief take hold because of it.

*****

The restaurant noise fades into the background after they make their orders. Despite her beaming smile at Becky, her ma has the hollow look and melancholy aura of a soul that has survived a terrible ordeal and still hasn’t really recovered from it.

But she is trying. God, Becky knows she is trying.

Becky knows that grief comes in waves. At first they are so strong that you feel like you’re being swept away. Then they come at the random moments, replacing a feeling of normality with that familiar pain.

Like now.

She is just coming off the back of scoring the winner goal on her first start for Kingston University and yet… she can feel the darkness moving in and she can feel the massive void that should be sitting here with them. The pain basically knocks on the door and walks right in whenever it feels like it.

“It’s okay, Becky.”

Becky crosses her ankles under the table. “I never said anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” her ma says. “Your face always gives you away.”

Becky pauses, looking down at the table. “It’s just… not the same, is it?”

“No. It isn’t.”

Becky looks up. Her eyes find her ma’s and she looks as stricken as Becky feels in this moment.

“But look at what you just did today. He’d be so proud of you.”

“Ma-”

“He  _ is  _ so proud of you. I know that and so do you.”

Becky blinks because she knows it’s true. With the passing of all these months, her dad’s absence has been a constant, endless and painful weight sitting inside her chest, but she knows he would have been here today celebrating more than anyone else at her goal. That’s just the way it was with him.

“I know,” Becky says eventually. “It’d be about now that he would be showing me all the photos he took of the game.”

“An’ you’d be sitting there rolling your eyes at him.”

Becky engineers a smile at that. “Yeah, I would.”

“How did it feel to be back out there anyway?”

“Good.” Becky reaches across for her glass of water. “I’m only counting the second half though.”

“Of course you are,” her ma says, laughing quietly. “God forbid you ever play badly.”

Becky breaks out into another smile. “Right.”

“And your roommate is the tall blonde keeper?”

“That’s her,” Becky answers.

“And things between you two are better since we last spoke… or?”

“Better,” Becky says. “I think we’re better anyway. It changes on a daily basis.”

“I see.”

“It’s better than it was at the start though.”

“Good.” Her ma gives her a knowing faint smile and reaches across the table to squeeze Becky’s hand. “I’m glad you two are getting on better.”

After they eat and make it back to the university campus Becky is exhausted and her legs are on fire. The embrace her ma gives her is tight, secure and calming all at the same time so Becky enjoys the comfort that it brings her and lets it wash over them both.

*****

“Collect your paper on the way out,” Mr. Miller explains, pointing to the pile of papers at the edge of his desk. “Read my comments and make sure you understand where you went wrong for the next one. Overall, it wasn’t a bad effort from you all.”

Charlotte’s not really listening initially, she is too busy in a quiet conversation with Bianca about the weekends game and also glad that this is her last class of the day because her attention span for school work is waning rapidly.

Mr. Miller is the kind of old-fashioned teacher that is reaching retirement and doesn’t want to accept it. Charlotte can’t remember the last time she got a physical copy of a paper back, the more she thinks about it.

She doesn’t suppose the paper is going to bring her any bad news anyway, she knows she has passed and probably a good pass too so she joins the line with Bianca, and Becky and Alexa join in behind them. The line shortens quickly and she says a quick goodbye to Bianca who heads off in the opposite direction.

Becky almost bumps into her as she is walking. “Jesus. Shit.”

“Sorry?”

“Nah. It’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Becky steps off to the side of the corridor and her eyes go back down to the sheets of paper that she is holding. Charlotte is lowkey amazed that Becky was actually able to write a coherent essay given the state of her notes.

“How did you do?” Charlotte asks, stepping out of the way of oncoming student traffic before it mows her down. “Did you pass?”

“Mm-hmm,” Becky says. She flips over another page and allows her eyes to scan that too. “Not exactly a great pass but it’s a pass. Did you or is that a stupid question?”

Charlotte holds herself still as she flips over the first page on her paper and then she lets out a quiet irrational breath. “I passed too.”

“Shocker.”

“Hey.”

Becky shakes her head at Charlotte’s conflicted expression. “I’m not any good at this class. I don’t think it suits me.”

“I don’t mind it,” Charlotte says, taking the opportunity to start walking again. “Some of it is interesting.”

Becky frowns, and shakes her head again. “Maybe I just suck at it?”

“I doubt it,” Charlotte says. “Sometimes we just struggle with some classes.”

“As if you have struggled with a single class in your life,” Becky says. She folds the paper up and brings her bag around to her front so that she can slip it inside. “Bet you get straight A’s for everything.”

“Not true. I’m not very good at math.”

Becky breaks out into a smile. “Everyone sucks at math.”

“If you need help studying for this class… I don’t mind helping you. We share a room anyway so it’s not as if we don’t see each other.”

Becky glances at Charlotte. “Sometimes that’s a pity.”

“What an asshole you are.”

“I know, right?”   
  
Charlotte grins.

When they eventually reach their dorm, Becky unlocks the door and lets Charlotte go in first. She chucks her bag onto the floor next to her bed and then she sits down at her desk, twirling her seat around so that it is facing Charlotte.

“Alright. I’ll study with you.”

Charlotte smiles. In the brief semi awkward silence that follows, Becky almost takes her words back.

“Okay, we’ll fix up a schedule,” Charlotte states. 

“But it's only because I don’t wanna fail this class.”

Charlotte nods and runs a hand through her hair, as if she isn’t sure what to do with herself. “Obviously.”


End file.
